


Destiel Suptober 2019

by CastielsCarma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 14, Angel True Forms (Supernatural), Books, Coda, Coercion, Crack Treated Seriously, Dean Winchester Being an Idiot, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Declarations Of Love, Demon!Dean, Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Established Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Honeymoon, Idiots communicate, Idiots in Love, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Sam Winchester, Kidnapping, Love Poems, M/M, Meta, Physical Abuse, Prose Poem, Sam Winchester is Scarred For Life, Scandinavian lore, Season/Series 15 Speculation, Superheroes, Suptober 2019, TFW poem, Valentine's Day Fluff, Violence, Wedding Planning, chapter 7, elf!cas, shifter!dean - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-26 09:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 34,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: 1. Autumn2. Eyes3. Royalty4. Books5. Water6. Outfit of the day7. Battered and Bound8. Vices9. Baby10. Season 1511. Weapons12. R.I.P13. Ladies14. Fire15. Led Zeppelin16. Halo17. Limbo18. Food19. Hotels/Motels20. Imagination21. Lightning22. Love23. No exit24. Nightmare25. Tattoos26. Wish27. Villains28. Make-up29. Poison30. Kansas31. Halloween





	1. Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be participating in this year's Suptober with my writing. The majority of it will be Destiel but I might find inspiration to write about other characters in the Supernatural universe. Most of these will be short drabbles. Enjoy!
> 
> I will tag for warnings in each chapter, if necessary.

Dean shuddered as a particularly cold wind found its way beneath his jacket. The air was cool and crisp and the darkness still blanketed the sky. A few stars dotted the heavens but nothing that mitigated the black of the night. Insects called out in a steady hum, but except them and an occasional hoot of an owl, everything was silent. 

Dean liked the darkness. The thought made him shake his head. As a hunter, he knew that most supernatural creatures thrived in the darkness. Vampires, werewolves, ghouls, hell, even the monsters under beds had night as their mistress. What perfect time to haunt, maim and devour than nighttime when most living things slept. Not Dean though. A lifetime of being a hunter had made sleep an option rather than a necessity, and being awake was an excellent way of keeping Dean's monsters at bay. Not the ones under his bed but the monsters in his mind. 

He raked his hands over the wet grass, catching some leaves with his hands. He grabbed one. He couldn't really see the color of it but imagined it was red, orange, a splotch of brown. Methodically, he started to tear it to pieces, letting them rain down back to the earth. He could hear Cas before he could see him. Soon a hand squeezed his shoulder, and another shape sat down next to him.

“I brought you something,” Cas spoke low and leaned into him.

Immediately, Dean's thoughts calmed, all those nagging voices that berated him. More out of habit than any real belief that they were true, but they kept him up at night. “Mm, is it beer?”

Cas chuckled. “Beer on a cold night like this. It's in the air. The slow transition from fall to winter. I thought this would be more suitable.”

Dean took the mug and opened the lid. The scent hit him before he even had a taste, but just to be sure he took a sip. The warm fluid traveled down, shielding him from the cold. Cas' body did the same. Just being near him made Dean feel _alive_. Heart quickening, blood flowing faster and beneath all that a fierce need to just keep him close forever. “Well, this is _not_ beer. Where did you get this?”

“Where do you get a pumpkin spiced latte? Starbucks.” Cas eased in closer, resting his hand on Dean's leg.

Dean found Cas' hand, lacing their fingers together. “Thanks, Cas. But you don't need to be here out in the cold with me. I'll be back in a sec'.”

Cas squeezed his hand. “I don't need to, but I want too.”

Dean just smiled and drank his pumpkin latte.


	2. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sees all of Cas

Dean couldn't take his eyes off the... well, eyes. He'd seen Cas' wings a hundred times and just like now the view left him breathless. Huge, black wings that enveloped Cas, framing him like some dark god of old. They were magnificent but right now, Dean couldn't form words.

Cas shuffled, angling his head as he took in Dean's reaction. “Do you... find them unsettling? I can make them go away. I'm sorry – “

“Don't.” It was a croaked whisper, but Dean was afraid to speak louder as if the loudness of his voice would scare them away. “They... are beautiful, Cas. You're fucking gorgeous.”

The multitude of eyes on Cas' wings blinked at the same time, a faint glow of blue around them before they returned to their individual gazes. Some eyes looked at the ceiling, others took note of the things in the room. A set of eyes kept wandering from the door to the bed and back but the biggest ones, at the arches of Cas' wings pinned Dean with their glare. Not unfriendly, nothing like that. Dean moved to the left and saw the duo following. “These two, they keep... um, following me? I hope I haven't done anything to upset them. Do they get upset?”

Cas smiled and took a step forward. “Not at all. Come closer.”

Dean obliged and stroked a wing, honing in on the feathers close to the armpit. The eye closed its ghostly lid as if enjoying the touch. The duo was still on Dean but rather than feeling creeped out, Dean felt a sense of calm and... peace. “You're... I thought the wings were beautiful, Cas, don't get me wrong, they still are. But the eyes are... Wow.”

“They are awe-inspiring. Or so I've heard.” Cas straightened. “I mean, I'm not an archangel, their eyes are – “

Dean cut him off, grabbing his hand. His thumb played slowly over the soft skin over the knuckles. “Stop it, Cas. You don't need to be an archangel for me to find you beautiful.” He kissed Cas on the lips. “Or hot.” Another kiss on the side of his cheek. The duo stared at Dean. He kissed his way down Cas' neck. “Or sexy.” He looked one of the eyes straight into the... eye. “Cas. Those two... what's up with those? Did I offend them somehow?”

Cas chuckled. “No. They are quite fond of you. I always have an eye.. or in my case two, on the ones I love.”

Dean glanced at them again before taking a step back. “Uh-huh, that's kind of sweet.”

“They were they ones that saw you first. When I found you in the depths of Hell, they saw you first, and just like me, they've loved you ever since.”


	3. Royalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poem from Cas' POV.

A king is nothing without a crown on his head,   
his decrees turn empty and his kingdom turn dead  
By turmoil and people, tumble all the way down  
until all that raised him as king makes him drown

A king that reigns over a beating heart, and not a land  
his reign will turn true, and not shift to quickening sand  
By fierce loyalty and hope forever  
this king's love will truly endeavor

I find hidden layers of me, with you in my life  
ever since you stabbed me in the heart with that knife  
With you, I can be all that I am and more  
I love you to the depths of my core

You're the king of my heart, the one I adore  
Just you by my side, I need nothing more  
Dean, rule cautiously over this heart of mine  
and together our souls will truly shine


	4. Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds a note in the library

Dean found the note in _The hundred and one ways to banish a __pixie_, an old dusty book on one of the shelves that he usually avoided. It was full of the usual dry language of the Men of Letters, but this section was special since it contained books from experts in various fields. The books ranged from _Ways to extended your life_, all safe (except if you're an elf) the under title claimed to _The thousand flowers_, an anthology for crafting an array of love potions. 

He was not looking for ways to banish pixies but as he turned, finding the actual book he needed, he knocked the pixie book over. As it landed on the dusty ground with a thud, Dean saw a note slide out. It didn't belong to the book, the color was all wrong. He unfolded it and frowned in confusion when he saw the handwriting. It was Cas'.

_Dean. I'm writing you this because it's easier t_ <strike> _han speaking the words from my lips. Maybe with this note, I can confess the feelings I_ </strike>

Dean dropped the note like it was scalding hot, etching the words from Cas into his very skin. He flipped the book over but didn't find another note. Heart hammering in his chest, he looked the other titles over. Which book would he never touch?

_ Enochian poems – Musings on the rarity of prose in the angelic language, second edition.  _ Two editions of poems, in Enochian. Well, it sounded like a book he wouldn't pick up. Sure, he knew of the American classics and he  _ had  _ read some newer poems, but he couldn't claim it was a hobby. And he would never pick up a Men of Letters book about poems. It was not case-related at all. Picking up the book, he shook it. A note fell out. Bingo. 

Dean picked up the note, playing with it for a few seconds before turning it over. Sure enough, it was in Cas' writing.

_ Dean. You and I, we've had a profound bond ever since I  <strike> saved </strike> we meet a decade ago. I have no doubt finding out angels were real was  <strike> a shock too </strike> hard on you, but the impact you've had in my life, I can't put into words. Yet, I'll try. It's amusing that a  <strike> creature </strike> an angel, like myself, who has lived for centuries find my lo <strike> ng life so much brighter when you entered it. </strike> _

Breathing heavily, Dean put the book back and left the library. He tried to think but his heart was beating so hard and giving his emerging headache a show for its money. Cas had written him letters and it was the kind of letters you wrote to someone you loved.

Dean stopped in the middle of the hall, his hands all clammy and sweat saturating his flannel shirt. Cas loved him. He had loved Cas for years and now by pure chance, he found letters,  _letters_ , with Cas trying to express his feelings for Dean.

He was such an idiot.

Looking around in the hall, he saw that he was still alone. Sighing deeply, he walked on towards his room, a pounding headache his companion. He needed a drink. A beer, or whiskey. Whiskey  _and_ beer.

Maybe the letters hadn't been to him. He remembered that one of them had started with 'Dean', so yeah, definitely for him. Holy fuck, Cas loved him. But who knew how old the letters where? Maybe he had written them forever ago, and if he still hadn't acted upon his feelings wasn't that a sign that Cas had changed his mind? Not that Dean would blame him. 

All those thoughts churned in his mind, accompanied by awful drumming. He needed not a glass of whiskey, but a whole bottle. No, scratch that, a whole fucking barrel.

As Dean finally came to his room and opened the door, he stopped in his tracks. There, right by the door, on the floor, was an envelope with  _Dean_ carefully written on it. 


	5. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds the new project manager at Sandover really interesting.

The first time Sam noticed Dean ogling over Cas, the new project manager, was at the water fountain. Dean never was much of a water drinker, and although he knew that Dean was aware that alcohol was a definite no while working, he rather walked the long distance to the vending machines to grab a sweet tea or a Coke than water.

Since Cas had joined Sandover, Dean had guzzled water like a parched man in the desert finally finding an oasis.

The second time Sam noticed Dean ogling over Cas was at a budget meeting where all the managers were going over their projects for the first checkpoint. Dean was done with his part and was making some notes when Cas called for his attention. Dean finally looked up at the sound of Cas' voice and looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“What?”

Cas frowned slightly, then pointed at the canister filled with water to Dean's left. “Could you give me some water, please?”

“Yeah, sure, sorry.” As Dean went to pour water in Cas' glass, his aim was so off base, that he missed the entirety of the glass and ended up soaking the table instead. Cas snatched up his laptop quickly, saving it from a drowning demise. Sam just shook his head.

The third time Sam noticed Dean ogling over Cas was at his place when he was over for some Friday tacos. Everything was ready, the meat was piping hot, the cheese grated, the fresh guacamole mixed together and the beer chilled and still no Dean ready at the table.

Walking out from the kitchen, Sam found him staring at his phone intently. Sam could bet a hundred bucks, that Dean was looking at Cas. Only Cas could make him get that doe-eyed look and the lip-licking had kicked in. He swore that he would make his brother buy a chapstick, no, three, if he didn't stop that habit. Sam sighed and went back to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge.

When he returned, Dean was still on his phone, trying to ogle a hole through the device. Sam had had an excellent aim in college but it had been a while. Still, a football and a cube of ice weren't _that _different. When he heard the satisfying sound as the ice cube landed in Dean's glass, splashing beer over him and his brother looking up, annoyance on his face, Sam grinned. “Still got the aim.

“What the hell, man? What was that for?”

“Food is ready, but you would have known that if you were not glued to your phone, looking at pics of Cas again. I tell you, it's creepy. Just ask him out.”

Dean got up, almost spluttering. “What... I'm not... This has nothing to do with Ca-”

“Show me your phone, right now then. Turn the screen.”

“No. I'm not gonna do that. Heard of anything called privacy, Sammy?”

But Sam was there in three strides and grabbed the phone from Dean's hand. Sure enough, there was a company picture of Cas on the screen. Dark, thick hair, strong jaw and eyes blue as sapphires, even though the photo didn't do them justice at all. In real life, Cas' eyes were blue like the deep ocean, calling to unsuspecting fools like Dean who was ready to toss himself into the water and drown into it.

“As I thought. So, you wanna do it now or after dinner? I suggest after cause otherwise the tacos are gonna go cold, but for my own sanity's sake maybe now would be – “

“I was just looking at his resume. Stop giving me that look, Sammy.”

Sam turned. “Fine, then I guess you don't want this.” Sam dug into his pocket, fishing out a little note.

“What's that?”

Sam turned, a triumphant smile on his face. “Cas' number.”


	6. Outfit of the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up with Cas in his bed

Dean rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked over at Cas, who was still sleeping soundly. The light tried to peek through the blinders but all it succeeded in doing was creating a slight halo around the window. A smile creased Dean's lips. Cas looked like an angel when sleeping. 

Getting up, Dean left the door slightly ajar as he padded out to the kitchen on bare feet. He packed the coffee in the moka express and put it on the stovetop, turning the heat up to max. 

As he was making sandwiches he heard the creak of the door. Cas was in the door frame, wearing only black boxer shorts and one of Dean's old green flannel shirts.

“Good morning. Looking dashing over there, Mr, Winchester,” Dean greeted. 

Cas smiled back at Dean as he pulled the flannel around himself. Walking up to Dean, he hugged him from behind. “Coffee and you're making sandwiches. Is this something I should expect every day now, Mr. Winchester? Part of your new husbandly duties?”

Dean grinned as he put a slice of salami on the sandwich. “You're my husband too.” He turned and faced Cas. “Mr, Castiel Winchester. What about your husbandly duties?”

Cas leaned around Dean and shoved the express maker away from the stove, turning it off. “I always take care of my duties.” Grabbing Dean's hand he pulled him back into the bedroom.


	7. Battered and bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up battered and bound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence, coercion, physical abuse and kidnapping.

Dean wakes up to darkness. He tries to blink and open his eyes, but the result is the same. Something is covering his eyes, shielding the world from him. He tries to spit out the thing shoved in his mouth but grunts painfully as a sharp pain flares up in his jaw. Every movement is laced with pain. Some pain is born from stiffness, muscles locked into awkward positions for too long and now screaming for release. Other pains are different. Dean shuffles, feeling cold floor underneath his ass and realizes he is naked.

His hands are bound behind his back, a feeling of thickness wrapping his wrists in a tight hold. His arms are heavy, an alien feeling. As he stretches, testing the binds his shoulder blades object and Dean grunts as the pain travels upward. A subtle pounding in his head is accompanied by a dull ache in his side. Scooting backward, he quickly comes up to a wall of some kind. His fingers pad over a smooth surface and he finds nothing to give him purchase. 

Stretching his legs and toes, he chases away pinpricks of pain before trying to get up. Immediately, he is yanked back down by a harsh pull and hears the rattle. Shaking his arms, he grimaces against another flash of pain as something heavy smacks against the floor. 

A chain. The motherfuckers have chained him down like some rabid dog. He blinks, panic setting in when all he finds is a sea of nothingness before him. Right, he is blindfolded. Inhaling air, he tries to calm himself and clear his mind. The exhale leads to drooling slowly dripping down the corner of his mouth. When he escapes, he will kill them all. 

He remembers a party, loud rock music, and food. Drugs abound, not that he needed that. If he wanted drugs he could've just stayed home. He walked the road to his house, it was not too late, just after midnight, cause he'd promised to take Sammy to practice the day after... _Sammy_. Dean flexes his fingers, trying to remember if he managed to call his little brother but comes up empty. Better not to think about him right now, he has more pressing matters to delve on. 

He remembers a shadow, someone asking for a lighter. _Late for a late-night stroll, isn't it?_ Dean recalled annoyance at that, he really didn't need another person, a total fucking stranger at that, judging him for his life choices, thank you very much. He'd just shrugged and fumbled with his pocket until he producing the lighter. _So eager to please. But I'm interested in another kind of light._

Something else happened too, obviously, in between the stage of slow-stroll-through-the-night and whatever the fuck was going on right now. Dean flexes his fingers again, bites down on whatever he has in his mouth and tries to bend away his cuffs but he can as easily try to bend steel with his bare hands.

He refuses to acknowledge his nakedness.

A sound reaches him. Something that creaks.

Dean opens his mouth and drools some more. Fucking gag or whatever it is that forces his mouth open. He clamors on to his anger, stoking it with the injustice and the mere fucked-upness of his situation. It's easier to cling on to anger than tumble down into the dark abyss of despair. Been there, done that. 

Something shuffles and the darkness takes solid form. Dean would have chuckled at that if said darkness wasn't aimed at him. It feels crazy to name something dark when his whole fucking world right now consists of darkness but he knows. He feels it in the air. A living breathing thing that's honed in on him. Gooseflesh rises on his naked skin.

He waits for it, him, he knows it's a “him” to speak, but instead feels prying fingers at the back of his neck, straps being pulled loose. Unceremoniously, his gag is pulled away. A brief flash of gratitude goes through him, quickly followed by anger. He has no reason giving whoever is standing before him anything, let alone gratitude. For all he knew, this fucker was the one that was responsible for Dean's current demise.

“Let's hope you can be a good boy this time and use your words.” The voice is deep, soothing almost, and if Dean is not mistaken, a note of amusement saturates the statement.

Dean thinks, which is a difficult task when his body is urging his mind to focus on all the way said body is in agony instead of something as mundane as higher cognitive functions.

“Fuck you.” Not his most eloquent response and maybe not the wisest of choices but Dean is tired, bruised and doesn't really have the capacity to take in the severity of it all.

A finger slides down his cheek, familiar in its touch and Dean recoils back until sharp fingers dig into his chin and cheeks. “You will not move away from my touch unless you're instructed to do so.” A sharp pain explodes down Dean's right side, cheek engulfed in flames and Dean blinks inside his blindfold, his mind too shocked to form coherent thoughts. “Do you understand?”

Dean nods, still too dazed to form words. 

The man is not satisfied and demands a verbal acknowledgment. “When I ask you a question, you are to answer it verbally, if you're not incapacitated. Since you are clearly not, answer the question, boy. I will allow this one side-step but next time I won't be so lenient.”

The urge to object is overwhelming, he is not a boy, but for once his mind keeps his impulses in check. A laugh threatens to burst forth but his mind is still reeling from the strike, and the sound passed his lips is a quiet moan of pain. “Yes.”

“Yes, what? Please know. I understand this current situation might be taxing on you, but if you do not do as I tell you, I _will_ punish you. I presume a college-educated man like yourself can speak in full sentences?”

The urge to strike fuels Dean's blood, rushing to his heart until he remembers he is chained. He starts to wonder if they drugged him somehow but comes to the conclusion that he's probably had a concussion, or passed out. Not all horses are home but among the ones that are left one sure as hell isn't named Stupid. 

“Yes..sir?” He is dimly aware of uttering those words before when a slap across his right cheek shakes him awake. Anger courses through him and all he wants is to rise up and choke the bastard, beat him to death with the gag and shove the blindfold up his ass. Horse Stupid is still in the stable though and as his confusion slowly starts to settle he is painfully aware that he's at a disadvantage. He doesn't even know how this piece of shit looks like.

“Close. Now, I would normally treat my property with more care, especially someone as beautiful as you, but you've already proven several times that you can't be trusted. Not that I blame you. Your former owner was way in over his head in taking on you. I do admire your tenacity. Seven days and you still persist. Please know Dean, that I only want what's best for you.” A hand ghosts over Dean's cheek. It burns and he has to use all his willpower not to flinch away. 

If you listen to me, your stay here will be... acceptable, peaceful. But if you insist on resisting, and digging your heels in, I will not be as merciful as I am now.” Dean swallows, a sick feeling in his gut spreading slowly throughout his tired limbs. This man, although he sounds crazy as fuck, was not playing around. “So, let us try this again. Do you understand?”

Dean wades through everything that has been said, trying to recall the original question but his mind keeps wanting to go through the other things the psycho has mentioned. The fact that he's been here, wherever here was, for over a week frightened him. He should have remembered more but given the state of his body, Dean guesses that he's been less than acceptable and as peaceful as a chipmunk on steroids. Property. Dog. Bile rises up in his throat but he is tired. Tired and in pain and he just wants the asshole to go away. It's just a fucking word. “Yes, master,” he whispers.

“Good. And when you're good, good things happen to you.” 

Strong fingers are in his hair, and Dean feels the straps loosen and finally the blindfold falls down to the ground. Squeezing his eyes shut at first, Dean slowly peers them open to look at the man he's only recognized as a calm and collected voice until now.

A handsome face, with dark brown hair, bordering on black greets him. Blue eyes, a shade that makes him think of the ocean on stormy nights when waves are high look at him. There is no malice there, only keen intelligence and curiosity. The eye of a raptor with its sight on prey. The man smiles, sending shivers through Dean.

“I'm Cas but for you, I'm master. You and I are going to form a bond, Dean. Profound you might say. I will be your entire world.”


	8. Vices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's enjoyment of food isn't diminished when he and Cas plan their wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun with this and would really like to see a similar scene between Cas and Dean in the show. One can dream! Consider this a palette cleanser after yesterday's prompt! Thank you for reading, giving kudos and commenting. I appreciate all of you.

“Now, Cas, allow me to show you all the good stuff.”

Dean's enthusiastic voice made Cas' narrow his eyes as he looked at the pastries, cakes, and pies on display. “I have to say, this is quite an impressive collection.”

Pointing at a brown chocolate pie, the lattice resembling squares on a flannel shirt, Dean grinned. “They call this _Dean's delight._ Chocolate covered apple pie with caramel layers. I suggested the caramel”, Dean said, “and the pattern. I might have encouraged them to name the cake after me too.”

Cas was looking at a white two-tier cake with blueberry and vanilla filling that had caught his attention. “It sounds delicious; I think we can go with chocolate cake. Flannel is a Winchester trait and it would be special with a cake bearing your name.”

Looking at Cas, Dean shook his head. “Nope, we are doing this the right way. Besides, who cares about a cake bearing my name?” He paused, firing of a smile at Cas. “_You _are gonna bear my name, that's all I care about.”

Cas smiled back and walked up to Dean, kissing him quickly. “The right way it is then. That entails what exactly?”

Dean grinned. “My favorite bad habit.”

Leaning in close to Dean, lips to his ear, Cas whispered. “Is it the habit where you bite your lip as I plow – “

They were interrupted by a loud, cheerful voice. “Ah, welcome! You must be the Winchesters. Congratulations! I'm Melanie. So nice to meet you!” Melanie's thick hair was up in a hairdo, with flower beads spread throughout, resembling a cupcake. She spoke quickly, with excitement and as she turned around Cas noticed the small cookie earrings dangling back and forth.

“Follow me to the mystery room!” The rest of her was all black; black, sensible shoes, black knee-long skirt, and blouse but here and there throughout – what Cas thought was a rather depressing outfit for a pastry chef - she had splashes of color. A large necklace hung low around her neck in the shape of a donut. She had a tattoo on her left arm of a rainbow cake and as he and Dean followed her to a back room, Cas saw the socks. Macaroons in different colors going up to her calves. She apparently really had a passion for cakes.

The room behind the counter was small but welcoming with a round table and three high chairs. “Please sit down and I will bring out the first tray. This is an important process, the highlight of the wedding, the _pièce de résistance_, so I want you to feel relaxed, comfortable and joyful.”

“Trust me, Melanie. We are joyful. Right, Cas?”

Cas was not sure how to react to Melanie's very exuberant explanation. “Very joyful.”

“Excellent!”

As Melanie left them, Cas leaned over to Dean. “It's a small wedding. I thought we already agreed on a small cake.”

Dean nodded and grabbed a spoon. “We agreed on a justifiable cake size for the number of people attending. What will our guests say if they find out we cut traditional corners in wedding planning, the very backbone of weddings? Nah, Cas, the only thing that we'll be cutting is a hell of a lot of cakes. Besides, this is what Winchester's are good at! Eating!”

“I can argue and point out that”, Cas lowered his voice, “killing monsters and smiting demons are our forte, more than eating.”

“Saving appetite, hunting all cakes, the family giddiness. There. How tight are your pants?”

Cas shook his head in amusement. “Do I even want to ask why you ask that?”

“Get ready for cake sweats!”

Melanie reentered the room again carrying a platter with four plates. She put them down on the table. “Now, normally how this goes is that I stay here and we go through all the amazing cakes. Some have sponge layers, we have mousse, raspberry, blueberries, all dark chocolate. We have gluten-free, vegan cakes, whatever suits your preferences. I encourage you to try everything – sans items you are allergic to, I'm obliged to say. We also carry a wide array of icing, fillings, whatever you need to fulfill your cake fantasies.”

“My only fantasy is cake. I'm not picky, but this wedding has been a long time in the making. We have been a long time in the making”, Dean explained, glancing at Cas.

Cas felt his throat constrict with emotion. “We'll try all the cakes.”

“Excellent! You have your notepads in front of you. Write down anything you like, don't like. We can also combine flavors from two different cakes you enjoy. Now, I won't keep you waiting. Good luck!”

Cas took one of the small plates and placed it in front of himself and Dean. “Fork for you. Let's dig in.”

Dean didn't need any more prompting. He took the fork and stabbed the cake in half. At first bite, he was already moaning. “I approve of this cake. Very good.”

“Mm, what flavor is it?”

Shrugging, Dean chased the last crumbs of the plate. “Um, vanilla, and something tropical I think. Satsumas? Wait, let me look at the tiny note. Um... Tahiti vanilla and coconut cream, with a vanilla pineapple buttercream frosting. It's good. We can pretend we're having a beach wedding.”

Cas exhaled in amusement. “We _are_ having a beach wedding. This cake would complement the setting very nice – “

“Cas, this is the cake. I found it. Dream cake for a dream guy.” Dean was already digging in on the second cake.

Not wanting to be outmatched, Cas took a small piece. An explosion of chocolate hit his mouth and he detected notes of champagne in the mix. “ Very rich chocolate. I like this. A lot of people like chocolate so this would go over well.”

Dean moaned out loud and suddenly grabbed his arm, squeezing tightly. “Cas...” He took the small card with cake information and shoved it over to his side. “I think this is the one. This is it! Imagine this cake with those cute topper dudes, or Mr. and Mr. sign or something. Maybe a flamingo. We're marrying at the beach so...”

“The beach yes, a lagoon no. But if you want a flamingo, I'll give you a flamingo, Dean.”

“You think we can convince Sam to wear something flamingo themed? Dress code: Flamingo. Jack would do it in a heartbeat!”

“I think Rowena would walk out.” Cas opened his mouth and accepted the last piece of cake Dean offered him.

“She can't. She's officiating the wedding.” Dean paused. “Fine, no flamingos.”

Cake number three was a dud in Dean's eyes. “So, what do you think of the cake, future-husband-to-be?”

Cas glanced at the little cheat sheet. “Carrot cake with lush coconut creme filling, ginger, and vegan buttercream frosting and crystallized lemon for added texture.” Taking a swipe with his fork, Cas mumbled through chewing. “Not too bad. I like the chocolate one better though.”

“I don't carrot at all about this cake.” Dean nodded, huge smile at his own joke. “Hey, you're not marrying me for my good jokes.”

“Dad jokes, Dean, I think is the term... And no, I'm not marrying you because of your jokes. Everything else is good about you. What bad you did was out of necessity. And although we haven't been perfect, we've been true to yourselves to the best of our abilities, to each other.”

“Flattery won't work, Cas.“ Dean turned serious. “I'm glad we're past the necessity stage. Chuck is asleep, and the strings are cut. No more being puppets. So if you want a banana bacon cake at the wedding, your wish will be my command.”

Cas' voice was even. “It's not my wish.”

“How about a chocolate cake with chocolate mousse filling, frosting, and chocolate pearls? You can never go wrong with chocolate.” Dean took a bite and put the spoon done. “I take that back. You _can_ go wrong with chocolate. I think my tongue is still attached to the roof of my mouth.”

Taking the rest of the sample from Dean, Cas' eyes widened in surprise. “That is very... rich chocolate.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Toe-curling rich. I'd take poverty any time over that. So is that a no on 'Death by chocolate'-cake?”

Cas pushed away the plate and grabbed a napkin. “So I think the chocolate-champagne one is a winner? We both liked it.”

Dean was grabbing the carrot cake plate and putting the last morsel in his mouth. “You're saying?”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn't like it. You shuddered like ants were crawling all over you.”

Nodding, Dean chewed enthusiastically. “It's alright when I mix it with 'Chocolate Death' over here. OK, I think we like the same cake. I got to admit, Cas, this is going better than I thought but right now, I'm so full.”

Grabbing Dean's hand, Cas squeezed. “Thank you for this surprise. It was very thoughtful of you.”

“You're welcome Cas Winchester. That's what awesome future husbands do.”Quirking his lips, he shouted. “Now, let's bring in sample tray number two!”

Narrowing his eyes in confusion, Cas asked, “I thought you were so full. Besides, we decided on a cake already, didn't we?”

Dean put a calming hand on his shoulder. “Cas. We're only marrying once. Tray number two!”

“Tray number two, it is.”


	9. Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's quiet morning ends up being quite lively with Cas and Sam acting weird. Throw Jack in the mix and Dean is determined to find out what's going on in the bunker and why 75% of TFW are acting off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took an unexpected turn. No warnings here, just fluff.

Dean could hear voices coming from the kitchen, and one of them was Sam which surprised him, knowing what time it was. This early in the morning Sam was either sleeping soundly in his bed or running like a loose hamster doing his morning jog. To find him in the kitchen was unusual.

“ – Baby, and you want to – “ Cas gravely voice was cut short as Dean entered.

Sam nodded at Dean and took another spoon of some stone age muesli mixed with seaweed or whatever. Dean didn't miss the weird look he shot at Cas before chewing with determination. Looking at the package, Dean saw it was the yellow one. Great, it was his fave. Not that he would tell Sam he was the one pilfering his muesli stash. 

“What about Baby?” Dean tightened the robe and shuffled over to the kitchen counter where Cas had already prepped the coffee. He could count on Cas' punctuality with his coffee. 

Sam cleared his throat. “What you mean?”

Dean raised an eyebrow as he swirled around his coffee with a spoon before putting it down and taking a sip. His body sighed in relief at the first boost of caffeine for the day. The Aztecs had worshiped the wrong bean. Sitting down, next to Cas, Dean kissed him and grabbed a sandwich that was already made. Lifting the slice of bread on top, he saw it was a peanut butter sandwich with jelly. “Thanks, Cas. Coffee _and_ sandwich, is it my birthday?” 

For some reason, a look of guilt flashed over Cas' face but it was gone so quickly that Dean was not sure it had been there in the first place. “No, I just heard you were awake and wanted to do something special for you.” His hand rubbed Dean's arm gently.

“Uh, well, thanks, Cas.” Dean took a bite of the sandwich. “Very good. The good kind of peanut butter. You'd approve, Sammy. No Skippy here, it's all hippy.”

“All peanuts?” 

“All peanuts. So, what about Baby?”

Sam flared of a smile and then took another spoon of muesli. “Me and Cas were just talking about her; she would need a tune-up though, maybe a cleaning. Hasn't been done in a while”. 

Dean frowned. “We haven't been on a case for a week, over a week.”

“Dust accumulates,” Cas chipped in.

“Alright, if Baby needs it, she'll get it. Who wants to join me?”

Standing up, Sam grabbed his plate and swiped his water quickly. “I'm done. Need to ...go. Take a shower. I think Cas would be very happy to join you. I will take a shower_rrrr_.” He turned and left.

Looking at Cas, Dean shook his head. “Who lit a fire under his ass?”

Cas shrugged. “We all know he perspires a lot. Must have been urgent. I'll help you with Baby.”

Taking another bite of his sandwich, Dean nodded. “Great. I've been waiting to try out my new towels!”

Dean was surprised at Cas' level of detailed cleaning. When he suggested that they go over the car one more time, it was Dean who had to object. “Alright, Cas, I really love this newfound, um... appreciation for Baby but I think she's clean.”

Cas shot up from his kneeling position and starting walking, passing Dean. “Very clean. How about I go ahead and start the showers?” 

“No need, Cas. Not that sweaty.” But Dean was talking to air. Cas was poking his head out of the door, only to close it completely.

When Dean opened it again, Cas was waiting for him. He flashed a smile at Dean and grabbed his hand. They started walking, and Dean felt Cas slowly drag him towards the library. “How about a game of checkers? You still think you can beat my record?”

“Pff, your record is only holding up cause I was drunk that one time. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling him in close. His lips were on Cas' mouth suddenly and Cas yielded as Dean kissed him hotly. Finally, Dean pulled away. “Now you'll be drunk on love, I might have a shot.”

Cas just laughed. “If your plans for distractions are of this kind, I think we can skip the game altogether.”

“So speaks a man afraid of losing his record.”

As they walked towards the library, they met Jack. He was at the other end of the corridor and stopped when he saw Cas and Dean. “Hi, Jack, why didn't you join us for breakfast?”

“I wasn't hungry.”

As Dean approached Jack he noticed something sticking out from a small pocket on his T-shirt. A thread of yarn and as he pulled a little bell plopped out. Jack's eyes flashed to Cas' before landing on Dean again.

“What's this?” There was an undercurrent of suspicion in Dean's voice.

“Oh, this? That's just a toy.”

“I can see that,” Dean said, “it looks look a – “

Jack interrupted Dean, smiling. “It's for the mice?”

Dean frowned. “The mice? Why would they need a toy? They're the snack _and_ toys for mini Nagini. Don't play with your food and all that?”

“She got bored, “ Jack stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “The snake got bored? And you know this because you what? Speak parseltongue all of a sudden?”

Jack opened his hand and Dean put the small bell toy in his hand. ”Snakes are intelligent creatures and they can get bored. It's just a matter of looking at their body language.”

“Body language, the snake is a big noodle. They don't have any body to speak of. You know what, as long as Nagini is happy and stays out of mine and Cas' room, you can build Nagini a whole fucking agility course for all I care. Have fun.”

When Cas and Dean had played four rounds of checkers and was on their first TP-round, Sam barged in. Seeing Dean, he gave a nod and slowed down. “So, Cas still kicking your ass?”

Dean scoffed. “Only cause he's cheating. Memorized all the answers. If we buy a new edition, just you watch, Cas.” He jabbed a finger at Cas, for emphasis. “You'll be sleeping next to a winner tonight. Remember, I killed Hit – “

Cas rolled his eyes. “I think I'll be sleeping next to nothing since you'll be sleeping in 7C.”

“7C has no bed!”

“Exactly.”

“That's great, guys.” Sam leaned in close to Cas and whispered in his ear. 

While Cas' face was impassive, Dean heard Sam mention the word 'gone'. Cas got up and looked at the game, and then at Dean.

“So I guess game time is over. What we looking for?”

Cas bit his lip. “We don't need your assistance. How about you go watch something with Jack, and me and Sam can look.”

“What are you not telling me? You've been acting odd,” Dean pointed at Sam, “all morning. Showering without your jog, what's up with that?” Dean turned on Cas. “And you've been weird.”

“We're fine. I'm fine, Dean.”

Dean rose from his chair. “Alright. Then let's go find whatever is gone. What are we looking for?”

“Nagini.” Sam's answer came fast.

“Right. She has no legs. She couldn't have come far. You guys go look, I'll think of snake-in-the-box-strategies. Don't want this to happen again.”

“Your plan is to think about hypothetical scenarios?” Cas sounded skeptical.

“That's a great idea,” Sam interjected, grabbing Cas' arm. “You do that, Dean. Hang in your room and think about a plan and I and Cas will deal with the snake.”

Dean knew something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. As he walked towards Cas' and his room he went through all the oddities he'd encountered that morning. It was almost like Sam, Cas and Jack were keeping something from him. Shaking off the suspicions, he grabbed a chocolate bar and propped up a pillow on the bed. Leaning back against the headboard, he chewed on the bar. What the hell did he know about snakes? Maybe a padlock would do, or some kind of GPS? Then they could always know where Nagini was. 

Kids. Couldn't Jack have a puppy or a fish, or a stick insect-like any other teenager? No, let's keep a snake from monster Medusa man. Great idea.

Dean's blanket moved.

What the hell? Dean straightened and looked at the spot where he'd seen movement. Once again the blanket moved and this time it was accompanied by a little sound. Getting up, Dean pulled away the blanket and stared at the creature in front of him.

Picking up the kitten, a black fluff of fur, he stared into its strikingly blue eyes. They reminded him of Cas' eyes. “Where the hell did you come from?”

The kitten just meowed in reply.

“Let me guess. You're the reason Cas, Jack, and Sam have been acting like the Gummi bears, bouncing wildly from one place to the other.”

Suddenly the door slammed open and Cas was there, wild-eyed. Sam poked up behind him and he could hear Jack's voice. “Is Baby there?”

“Oh, I got _Baby_ right here.”

Jack pushed through and went to take Baby from Dean.

“Nope. Kitty is mine. See?” Jack tried to remove the kitten from Dean, but she dug in her claws in Dean's shirt, holding on tightly.

“She likes me. She stays. So... how long did you think this would've worked?”

Sam looked down at Cas. “It was his idea. He's your boyfriend.” With that, Sam turned on his heel and left. “Good luck,” he called.

Jack slowly eased his way towards the door. 

Dean's voice made him pause. “Jack. You and I are gonna have a talk about this.” 

When Dean didn't say anything else, Jack saw that as his cue to leave.

Dean chuckled. “Jack was way too easy to read. Need to teach him to keep his face in check.”

“You want to talk to him about lying better.” Cas' voice was raised in question.

“Not a lesson you need,” Dean said, but there was no malice in his voice, and all his attention was on the cat. 

“We found her abandoned, last night, freezing and cold and Jack loved her instantly. We know how you feel about cats – “

“I'm allergic, Cas. It's not a feeling.” He was scratching the kitten behind the ear absentmindedly and smiled when he heard her purr. “She likes me. Yeah, you know a pure heart. Not these scheming Winchesters who lie and hide you. She likes me.”

“So... we can keep her?”

Dean frowned. “I'll have to take meds. The cat food will stink.”

“We can always give her dry food if – “

Dean brought the kitten close to his face. “You hear that? Dry food? You have been hanging with the wrong crowd, Baby. I'll give you the good stuffs. Uncle Dean will fix that.” He looked back at Cas. “So that's what you and Sam argued about.”

Cas scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I thought she was just a baby and Sam wanted to give her away to a shelter. I was pointing out that she was just a baby – “

“Mm, and then I made you clean Baby.” Dean laughed. 

Cas walked up to Dean, peering down at the kitten as he stroked Dean's arm softly. “So you're not mad then?” 

“No. You did the right thing. Except for the sneaking part. We'll keep her. There's just one thing?”

Smiling, Cas seemed relieved when the literal cat was out of the bag. “What's that?”

“There's already one Baby in this house. She'll need a new name.”

“Any suggestions?”

Dean thought for a second. “Yep. Norris. Now let's head to the kitchen and make you some food.” Gently, Dean tucked Norris in his shirt pocket. He didn't know he'd have a cat when he woke up this morning but he'd be damned if he abandoned Norris. Besides, if was kind of nice. And she was really soft. And warm. His own personal, portable heater. She was staying.

Norris was pleased with the view, purring loudly.

“She was stealthy, Cas. How about Chuck Norris?”

Cas shook his head, laughing. “No.”


	10. Season 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Sam, and Cas finally escape the zombies God has unleashed on them. Cas ponders what they can possibly do as a next step.

Cas watched the landscape pass by as Dean drove them away from the lost souls inhabiting the bodies of the dead at the cemetery. They'd managed to hold them off and escape – that's what they did, always surviving in the nick of time – but this time there was no joy coming from it.

Dean and Sam were in the front seat. The Ford C-Max, they'd found at the outskirts of the cemetery, seemingly abandoned and Dean had no qualms about borrowing it for an extended period of time, although Cas had heard him curse already that she wasn't Baby. Apparently, they'd been driving for a while because the oppressive darkness Chuck had conjured was gone, revealing the day's lights on the road ahead of them.

Chuck, no God, had abandoned them. Correction, he had never been on their side. And although Cas, in recent years had come to trust these humans, the Winchesters, who eventually became friends and more, his family, he's always considered himself an angel. Until recently. And even though his own loyalty had wavered until he'd allied himself with the Sam and Dean fully, with humanity, God was his father.

A being that was supposed to be with them, for them. The revelation that God sent darkness and pain their way, and directly caused it for his own amusement was painful. That pain was slowly morphing to righteous anger.

_Jack_. He'd given everything to save Jack and with a snap of a finger, he was gone. Because they refused to play God's games.

Dean was driving fast, wanting to have as many miles between him and the zombie creatures. Not that Cas thought they could outrun anything. Chuck was God. How did they beat that?

“Cas, do you hear anything on angel radio? Can you sense Chuck?”

Listening in on those celestial waves that contained the whispers of his brothers and sisters, he didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. It seemed that Chuck had revealed his true nature only to them.

There was a pause, then Sam spoke. “Can you sense... Jack?”

Cas shook his head sadly, then uttered the gut-wrenching answer. “No.” He hadn't expected to hear anything either. And he had no way of listening in on the Empty, if Jack was there.

The trees they passed were the same as before. The revelation that God had been guiding their lives, manipulating so many of their steps so they would dance to his tune, because he found it entertaining made Cas clench his fist in anger. He wanted to storm up to God and pierce a dagger straight through his blackened heart. Cas was done. Unfortunately, it seemed the world was done and doomed with him.

“We'll find a way. If Death can reap God, so can we. I want that son of a bitch to rot in the ground, vanish in a cloud or whatever the hell happens to God when he dies.”

“We have the gun,” Sam interjected. “Maybe we can – “

“It's his rules, Sam. I'm sure God could just think it and the gun would be useless against him.” Cas felt a twinge of guilty consciousness as he dashed Sam's hopes but he felt they needed to be realistic. To look at things clearly. He remembered the weight of Jack's body in his arms and swallowed harshly. He didn't want to, couldn't look clearly at that yet.

Dean refused to be dejected. “Call Rowena, Sammy and let her in on this cluster fuck. We need to get a hold of Billie. She's been Death for a while now, try convincing her to spill what she knows. Knowing how she's big on balance and all that, this has to be enough to loosen her tongue about 'the mysteries of the universe' . Maybe she'll know something. And with God going loco, I can't imagine what would be a bigger motivation.”

_Jack._

There was a beat of silence before Dean spoke. “We'll get him back, Cas. And then there will be hell to pay. God will pay.”

Cas nodded, feeling conviction building in his heart. God would pay. Even if it killed Cas.


	11. Weapons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dean's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I had a great elaborate explicit idea for this prompt but then life happened and I didn't have the same amount of time to write it so... I give you a nonexplicit poem instead ; )

They are weapons, those eyes of blue that seem to  
pierce my very soul  
calling out to me, not gently  
but with an insistent cry,   
come home

They are weapons, those lips, rough and cracked  
so unlike the words, they bring forth  
offering me succor   
as they trail over my skin, whispering  
come close

They are weapons, those hands so sure and strong  
beckoning me closer still  
and their touch burns,   
an inferno of sensations, screaming out  
come here

You are a weapon, Cas, and your whole being  
is holding me hostage  
and I never want to be free,  
from your presence that demands   
come with me!


	12. R.I.P.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam Winchester is frustrated. He's frustrated at Dean. He's frustrated at Cas. Will he ever get some peace?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going for something dark in the beginning but then this happened. =D I hope you enjoy this read, I certainly enjoyed writing it! xD 
> 
> As always I appreciate you taking the time to read my writings. Thank you <3

Rest in peace, his ability to hold his tongue. Sam would consider himself to be a patient man but even he had his limits.

Dean was in the kitchen, sulking. The coffee was not done, and Sam could not for the life of him understand why Dean didn't just press the button. Oh, he knew, but he had vowed to himself that he would avoid Cas and Dean's latest spat. Not that it was the easiest thing to do. They all lived in the Bunker and even though it was a relatively large space it seemed that the thing or whatever was going on between Dean and Cas was steadily growing, until it threatened to consume the entire bunker. 

“Jack not up yet?” For the most part, Jack was a safe topic.

Dean glanced up from his brooding and looked around the kitchen. “No.”

Not that Sam wondered why. Ever since they came back from _that_ case, Dean had been grumpy and angry and Cas had more claws than freaking nine cats. If they would only talk with each other things would be dealt with in a nice and peaceful manner but getting those two to talk was harder than convincing Coyote to stop chasing the Roadrunner. He didn't blame Jack for avoiding Dean and Cas at the moment. 

Sam exhaled deeply and grabbed a glass of orange juice. He sipped on some and decided that he'd approach the subject through small talk.“So, can I make you some coffee?”

Dean stiffened and glared at Sam as if the question was a personal affront to him. “Nope, I'm good.”

“You're go – “ It was easier to take a bite of his sandwich than to engage with Dean.

“You would have thought that he'd say something but I guess the _guilt_ was too much for him.” 

Sam sighed again. “It was not like he was at fault, Dean. Besides, that's how the gorgon's poison worked. And you were not there, why should he say something? You need to stop sulking and go talk to him.”

Dean grumbled something and took a bite of his own sandwich. “Any new cases?” 

So they were apparently dropping the subject. Sam would take the few hours of peace he could get.

***

Rest in peace, his ears. Cas was not prone to repeating himself but this was a tirade born out of anger and frustration. “He is being unreasonable, Sam. I was not aware, he got me completely by surprise. I didn't want to be poisoned but it happened. I don't understand his reasoning. This is not the first time I've been in danger and it won't be the last.”

Sam started to sigh but stopped himself. He needed to save some for the inevitable situations that would demand sighs later on. “Listen, Cas. Um, it's not that Dean is angry because you put yourself in danger. As you said, we do that all the time.”

“Then what is it about?”

Sam clenched his jaws in frustration. How could a millennium-old being be so clueless? He was not fair to Cas, he was an angel and smack in the middle of things. Sam didn't want to be the middle man, yet here he was, again. All he wanted for Dean and Cas was happiness but they could be infuriatingly stubborn and dense. Sam had no illusions that he could open their eyes, but he hoped that he could at least shove them in the right direction. He was tired of them planting one foot on the right path, only to turn around and run in the opposite direction, preferably after just having pummeled each other.

Sam tried for a calm and even tone. It was not their fault, that living with them right now was like being with two goats insisting on butting heads with each other. “Dean is... upset that you didn't tell him about the kiss because it was a kiss.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Of course I know it was a kiss, I was there, Sam. In fact, you were unconscious and I was the one that told you of the ordeal.”

Smiling, Sam decided that repetition was the best course of action. He put a hand on Cas' shoulder and squeezed. “It was a _kiss_, Cas, that's the difference. And Dean is upset cause he feels...” Sam hesitated. Maybe he was pushing things too far. “Wronged.”

Cas who was about to ask something closed his mouth, his eyes narrowed as he processed what Sam had told him. “Why would Dean feel _wronged_?”

“Maybe you should ask him.”

***

Rest in peace, his eardrums and piece of mind. The raised voices coming from Dean's room had just started but it was enough to make anyone within a five-mile radius drop everything and run. Jack had heard the voices, realized who they belonged to and sought Sam out.

The library was not a space of peace and quiet at the moment, not with Dean's angry voice echoing back of Cas' frustrated snarls.“They are just, talking out some differences that need to be um, talked about.”

Jack looked at Sam at the other end of the table. “They are both afraid.”

“You can sense that with your powers?” 

Jack nodded. “Yes, but you don't really needs powers. You can just listen to them. I don't really understand what they are afraid of. They both – “

Raising a hand, Sam cut Jack off. “It's complicated, we _humans_ are complicated and – “

“Cas isn't human.”

“Right, but he's been with us for so long that he practically is. He's picked up some of our best habits, and some of our not so good qualities too. But they'll be alright, Jack, don't worry. Just give them time.”

“If you say so, Sam. I'll be in my room, headphones on.” With that, Jack got up, book under arm and went for cover. 

Sam decided this was an excellent time to go grocery shopping.

***

Rest in peace, his eyes! There was a picture he didn't want to have in his mind.

After coming back from the store in a reasonable amount of time, Sam figured that they'd soon run out of steam and go sulk in their rooms like hormone-addled teenagers, he found the Bunker was eerily quiet. He had put the groceries away and went to Cas' room. 

The place was empty.

A note in Jack's room just stated that Dean and Cas had been shouting so much, that he went out for ice cream instead. Was it too much to ask that he'd bring some back home for Dean and Cas to cool their heads with?

He called out for Dean and Cas but silence was all that greeted. He didn't think they had left the Bunker. Baby was still in the garage, Cas' trench coat had been in his room – he never left without the thing. After checking the game room, Sam decided to go talk to Dean. 

Knocking on the door, he waited but Dean didn't open. He was probably still angry and hoping to avoid a heart-to-heart with his baby brother but said baby brother had had enough. Dean was just going to have to suck up whatever wounded feelings he had and take the bull by the horn and face Cas.

As Sam swung the door open, he was already preparing his motivational speech. “Dean, you need stop –“

Sam stopped in his tracks, looking at the picture in front of him, all slack-jawed. Dean was facing Cas alright. His whole face was stuck on Cas' face as they kissed with fierce abandon. Cas' shirt was tossed on the floor, and Dean's shirt was unbuttoned, his hair all disheveled. 

Dean tore himself from Cas' only to cast a glare at Sam, but he couldn't hide the smile forming on his lips. “We talked. Now we are kissing. Get the hell out of here.”

Cas grabbed Dean by the chin to pull his attention back to him before he assaulted him with his mouth.

Stumbling backward, Sam practically ran for the door, an odd mix of joy and mortification at almost walking in on his brother having sex with Cas, tumbling around in his mind.

“Thanks, Sam!” Cas called out as Sam slammed the door shut.

As he walked away from Dean and Cas, Sam couldn't help the laugh that burst out of him. Finally! Finally, the two idiots had gotten the memo. Now he could have some peace of mind.


	13. Ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas convinces Dean to go out clubbing but not everything goes as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble contains descriptions of homophobic language.

They'd had fun at the club, even if Cas had to initially drag Dean to it. Knowing each other for over fifteen years, they had only for a third of that time called each other boyfriend.

And for almost a year, they had called each other husband.

“So, husband, tell me now again how this was a bad idea?” Cas had his arms around Dean's neck as they danced slowly to the languid rhythm of the music. Several others had their arms around someone they loved and the strobe light painted them in an almost eerie glow.

“Fine, the idea was alright for being a spur of the moment thing, Cas.” Dean kissed Cas' forehead lightly. “I guess I was being prejudiced.”

Cas grinned. “Not too old yet? You still have some party genes left in you.”

“This was the calmest party I've ever been to. But you're right. We got to get out of the house _sometimes_. So how about another party in five years' time?”

Laughing, Cas shook his head before resting his cheek against Dean's shoulder. They swayed back and forth until a shoulder abruptly knocked them off-kilter. 

Dean immediately stiffened and took a step back to get a better view of the man who had walked into them. “Maybe an 'excuse me', would have been nice.” He said it more to himself and Cas but the strange man apparently heard the exchange and stopped in his tracks.

As he turned around, Cas noticed a well-built but shorter man than themselves. Hair sprinkled with gray was combed off to the side and his royale beard was silver and barely visible. The kind of man Dean would have described as being an asshat or douche. 

“Excuse me,” he said, talking slowly and exaggerating the length of the words. “I didn't notice you two. I figure a real man would have no problem with a friendly scuff. It's a night club after all.”

Cas could feel Dean getting ready to spring into action, and placed a calming hand on Dean. “Let's get out of here, Dean. He's not worth it. We can go home and relax. It's not late.”

Dean looked at Cas and nodded imperceptibly. “Alright, I'll leave the douche-canoe alone. I bet his beard has more hair than his balls.”

As they made their way towards the exit, the man called out. “That's right. You leave. We don't want you, ladies, here.”

Cas noticed that Dean had stopped and turned around as the man addressed them. “What's your name?”

“Kip,” the man answered, as his eyes swooped over Dean, not even bothering to hide his disdain. “Doesn't surprise me you ladies running away like cowards. You just go and let the real men _and_ women have fun.”

Cas put a calming hand on Dean that did nothing to deter him. He pulled away from Cas gently. “Well, let me give you a ladylike goodbye.”

“And what's that? A kiss? I'll pass.”

Dean smiled. “Oh, I wouldn't want to kiss that ugly face of yours. How about you kiss my ladylike knuckles, asshole?” Dean punched Kip straight in the face. 

As Kip staggered, shouting and holding a hand over his nose, Cas felt Dean's hand envelop his.

They walked out of the club with calm steps. Outside of the club's flashing lights and pumping music, Dean hugged Cas and kissed him, long and deep. 

When they broke off the kiss, Cas spoke. “Well, that was too much even for my party genes. So how about another party in five years' time?”

Dean laughed out loud. “Deal.”


	14. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean yearns.  
Dean burns.

Dean closed his eyes as Cas' fingers trailed over his collarbone, following the path of freckles that traveled upwards. His hand wrapped around his chin, turned him just so. Dean moaned as Cas' tightened his grip and then lips were on his sensitive skin, kissing him. Cas breathed fire and Dean wanted to burn. 

Arching his hips upwards, he could sense Cas' smile against his skin. He didn't mourn the loss of Cas' hand on his chin, instead he angled his body so Cas could feel his hard desire. The plea on his lips earned him a reward as Cas covered his cock with his hand. He was on the brink of eruption.

A slow thrust and Cas closed his hand over Dean's head. It was too much and not enough and Dean pressed his body against Cas, wanting just a fraction more. It rushed through him, the need to come so tantalizingly close and with a few languid strokes he was there. Gripping Cas' shoulders, Dean hanged on as he rode through the orgasm. 

Breathing heavily, Dean sank down on the bed again and Cas came down with him. He hugged Dean tightly and they rested there together. Dean's breathing had calmed and the fire was now a slow, burning ember. He sighed against Cas' chest, the beating of his heart a soothing sound as Dean closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him.


	15. Led Zeppelin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is accompanying Charlie to a charity event where he meets the wealthy and eligible Castiel Novak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write. I love to write confident, sassy Cas and Dean trying to outsmart him!
> 
> This is a gift to @BabysNotaProp <3

Dean had been eyeing the man all night long. The Led Zeppelin Tshirt he wore underneath the black jacket, dark jeans and leather shoes that screamed 'here walks dollars' definitely stood out among the other guests. The women wore tight-fitting cocktail dresses popping with color and every man seemed to be a walking, talking Armani ad. The party was supposed to be some kind of charity event for a youth-center and Dean felt like a rat among fat cats. Sure, he had a bite but he'd rather bit a burger then the small thing he had in his hand.

“What's with this tiny little crab cake? I find larger things stuck in Jude Paw's teeth.” 

Charlie patted Dean's arm and grabbed the crab cake. “If you won't eat it, I will. Jude Paw wouldn't complain.” She almost rolled her eyes as she swallowed it down. It's supposed to just tease your appetite. Dinner will be later.”

“Oh, I see something that teases my appetite”, he mused. Dean glanced over at Zeppelin guy. The second thing he'd noticed, besides the rock Tshirt was the dark, thick hair and eyes that were so blue they had to be contacts. He could imagine them closed in ecstasy as he kissed his way down Blue Eyes chest, divesting him off that jacket and him getting tired of the slow teasing, roughly grabbing Dean by the wrists and turning him around, his hard – 

“Ah, let me guess. Mr. Dark Hair over there. That's Castiel Novak, eligible bachelor, _and_ heir to a third of the Novak fortune. Women have been falling at his feet for years. He's had a few flings here and there but nothing has caught his attention. Rumor is that his charm hides a prickly and arrogant rich recluse. Not that it dissuades his suitors.”

“Mm,” Dean said as he followed the man. He moved with ease around the other guests and he seemed to be well-known. For being prickly and arrogant they sure seemed to fawn over him. He was greeted with smiles, hands patting his arm and loud laughs, probably at something witty he said. What did he know about Zeppelin anyway?

“You look stunning by the way, Charlie.” Dean tore his eyes from Castiel and took in Charlie's deep green dress. “I got to tell you, I'm surprised you asked me. Flattered but surprised. I didn't see you as someone who enjoyed this kind – “

“Oh, I'm not enjoying this at all.” Charlie made a frown but it quickly turned to a smile. “But, I get to keep the dress and it will transform beautifully into a wooden elf dress when I tear away some of all these frilly layers.”

Grabbing some kind of drink that was not beer from one of the trays, Dean contemplated Charlie's answer. “I thought you asked me as your date because you wanted to be here.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed a glass of wine, taking a sip hurriedly. “I think not.” She lowered her voice into a whisper. “You can thank Dick Roman for that. He said I had to attend this 'corporate function' and when I found out it was this charity deal I knew I had to go. I quickly thanked him and mentioned my date. You.” She pointed a finger at his button-down dress shirt. “I'd rather have you at my arm then Dick.”

“You'd rather have no dick at all.”

Charlie grinned. “Yes, true. But Roman doesn't know that.”

Dean turned serious. “If he gives you any grief... you know Sam is a lawyer. He can sue his ass all the way back to Perville if he does anything inappropriate.”

Smiling, Charlie gave Dean a hug. “Thanks. He hasn't made a move yet, but I'm wary of the guy. You know, some people give off this unsettling vibe. Whenever he's been in my office, I feel dirty, like I want to pour Borax all over me and stand in the shower for one hour.”

“Yeah, just take care of yourself, Charlie. If you ever need me to punch him, I'll happily do it.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on her lips. “I think you need to take care of this instead,” she whispered as she kissed his cheek, and moved away.

Surprised, Dean turned around to see Castiel Novak in front of him.

“I haven't seen you around before.” Cas' voice was dark, a sultry deep tone that ran slowly down his spine, igniting it with fire along the way. “I'm Castiel Novak, but I assume you already know that.” He extended his hand and smiled.

Dean took it and appreciated the strong grip. He could easily imagine that hand around other parts of his body but tried to reign in his fantasy. Arrogant, wealthy dudes were not his style. His style was more of the trust them-fall-in-love-and-get-dumped-at-the-altar-style. He banished the images from his mind. Dude, just because you wanna fuck him doesn't mean you need to marry him. “Dean Winchester. Here with Charlie Middleton, um, Celeste.”

Castiel shook his head as he let go of Dean's hand. “Haven't seen her here before either. Usually it's the same old fish in the pond. Now and then a new salmon shows up but they get quickly consumed by the sharks.” He narrowed his eyes and spoke lower. “Are you a fish or a shark, Dean?”

How did you answer a question like that? “I'm a bear. Eating all the fish and being far enough inland to avoid the sharks.”

Castiel laughed and it was a deep, honest laugh. Not one of the at least a dozen cringe-worthy almost excusing laughs he's heard so far in the evening. Finding out that Dean was a teacher, had all left them with a look of puzzlement before most of them smiled pleasantly and started asking him in which field he was a professor in. He wanted to say shitty diapers and toy conflict management but had held his tongue. If not for his, then for Charlie's sake. Knowing how big of a dick, Dick was, he'd probably fire her to voice his displeasure with Dean.

“Interesting. I assume you're safe then. Only a fool-hardly bear would presume to eat a shark.” The sudden, intense look Cas' gave Dean made his stomach swoop.

Yeah, or a very brave one, Dean thought. “Looks can be deceiving,” he stated. “I see you're wearing a Zeppelin T-shirt. Figure you're more of a Kotzwara type.”

A smile flashed over Cas' face and he inched closer, only to reach around Dean. “Hors d'oeuvre?” 

Dean shook his head no, and Cas took the small snail or dry biscuit and dill, whatever, in his mouth. 

“The only advantage of addressing these kinds of functions is free food. Even when it's dry. Most of the people are here only to show off themselves, get their name out. Or find suitors.” He made a face at the last word. “Impressed you know your Zeppelin's and Kotzwara's though.”

“You should show yourself off more then.” Dean didn't know if it was something with the wine or the tiny sandwiches that pretended to be big ones. He wasn't usually this forward with a guy, especially one that he found interesting. “You stand out.”

Castiel laughed again. “A Zeppelin shirt to a formal event will do that to you.”

That or it's your come-fuck-me now- look, but Dean couldn't say _that_. For being prickly and arrogant, Dean found he'd enjoyed Cas' company so far. “Which is your fave Zeppelin song?”

Cas wrinkled his forehead as in thought. “I like them all.”

A stab of disappointment went through Dean.

“But there are some I'm particularly fond of like 'Ramble On, 'Immigrant Song' 'Kashmir' and 'Black Mountain Side.'

“Really? Black Mountain Side? It's not one of the most famous Zeppelin songs.”

“Might be, but I enjoy that it's eclectic.”

“ Yeah, '58 was a really great year for rock.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at that, something cold flashing in them before he took a subtle step towards Dean. He was so close he could feel the heat of him and he had to stop himself from reaching out and touching Cas' chest. “It's 1969 but the song was recorded in '68. Now, did I pass your quiz, Dean Winchester?”

Dean felt heat rise in his cheeks, mingled with an odd sense of excitement. “It was not – I like your shirt.“

“Thank you. What's your favorite composition from Frantisek?”

Trying to get his bearings around Cas was impossible. Now he was asking him about some guy that he apparently expected Dean to know about. Dean didn't listen to classical music!

“Frantisek Kotzwara”, Cas clarified, his lips quirking in amusement.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Dean frantically tried to remember the song Charlie had played on repeat for that ball-LARP they went to two months ago. “It's... Sonata, no. 6 for 2 violas and cello. In C major.” Nailed it.

“Ah, I've seen that one performed live with the London Orchestra.” Cas leaned in close to Dean and spoke low. “I have to leave now, Dean, but it was lovely to meet you. By the way, do you know how Kotzwara died?”

Dean swallowed, the presence of Cas overwhelming. “No.”

Cas leaned in even closer and whispered in his ear. “Auto-erotic asphyxiation.”

Dean tried to gather his bearings as Castiel slowly sauntered away, confidence in every step. Soon he was mingling with the other guests and people swarmed to him, like moths to a flame, no, like the sun.

Searching for a waiter so Dean could grab anything; wine, a fruity cocktail, hell even water for his suddenly very dry throat, he noticed something in his back pocket. Pulling it up, he saw it was a small white card. The paper was thick and creamy and as he flipped it over he saw a number. Underneath it, in elegant writing. _Call me. /C.N._

Smiling, Dean put it back in his pocket and went to find Charlie.


	16. Halo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean discovers two secrets about Cas.

Dean heard the sound as he was walking down the hallway after having a night Nutella-snack. It was a low humming and as he followed it, he realized it was coming from Cas' room. He debated if he should leave it alone only for a second, it was Cas after all. If something was out of the ordinary Cas would've called them.

Maybe Cas was vacuuming. Dean knew that Cas did some chores when they were asleep, and several times he'd even found the laundry folded nearly and put back into drawers and wardrobes. But the sound had a compelling note to it, a deep thrumming that called to him. That and Dean was curious as hell. 

His hand twitched after a weapon but Dean ignored it. _He_ was a weapon and he doubted that Cas was in any real danger, he was a fucking angel. On silent feet, Dean approached Cas' door and saw with a hint of satisfaction that it was slightly ajar.

Cas sat on the bed, cross-legged, as always wearing his signature clothes sans the trench coat. It was hanging on a wall and something else that was hanging was Dean's mouth. A _halo_, a circular shape of light imbued with what looked like Enochian sigils hovered above Cas' head. Now and then it pulsed in rhythm with the weird humming, blasting out a wave of light before going back to its regular glow. The light had the same shade as grace and the halo look substantial. Dean was tempted to walk up to Cas and touch the halo, see if his calloused hands would find something solid and how that density would present itself.

It was beautiful.

Cas was _beautiful_. Halo or not, Dean longed to be close to him. But how could he, when Cas was an angel, so otherworldly and more. And Dean was just Dean.

He didn't know if he'd spoken Cas' name out loud but the angel turned, and the grace that painted his eyes into something alien paled, revealing Cas' normal eyes. To Dean, there was nothing normal about them. They were a beacon of hope, something that Dean could hang on to and trust. Cas was there, and Dean needed him there. _Liar. You don't just need him, you_ want _him_.

“Um, I'm sorry, Cas. I heard something and came in to check if you were alright and well, I saw you and your... halo.”

Cas looked uncomfortable and Dean cursed himself. This was making Cas uneasy and Dean was leering like a creep. “I'll... I see you're fine. I'ma go back to sleep.”

Silence.

“Dean. You didn't bother me. You never do. And yes, I... do have a halo. Usually, it's in the third ethereal plane, just below my wings. I was... reconnecting.”

Dean paused, looking back at Cas. After a beat, he turned and sat down near Cas, on the bed.

The humming had stopped, but it was as if a residual power was lingering, crackling around the angel. The hair on Dean's arms stood up. “Reconnecting, eh? E.T. Phone home kind of thing?” Cas' quirked a small smile but to Dean, it looked sad. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, Cas, I... didn't mean to – “

“It's fine. It works kind of like a charger. My halo helps me tap into my grace and keeps me powered up. I can function without my halo but without it, it's easier to sever my grace and let go.”

Dean frowned. He'd never read anything about that in any lore books, nor seen any mentioning of halos in any spells, whether Enochian, Latin or any other language. “Uh, not that I'm not believing you Cas, but this is the first time I've ever heard anything like this.”

“Some secrets are closely guarded.”

Dean nodded. He knew all about secrets being closely guarded. “OK, didn't mean to disturb your rebooting. It looks cool, the shining and stuff. You look cool.” You look cool. Dean wished someone would shot him. Where was the gun when he needed it?

Cas stiffened and there again was that flashing of sadness. 

This fear that Dean had hurt Cas came over him and he needed, wanted to make himself clear. “That came out wrong. Look, if you want to reconnect that's cool. I mean you are an angel so. That's what angels do. Apparently. And you said something about severing. You're Cas and, you're one of us.”

Cas was silent for so long that Dean feared that he fucked up and said something wrong, hurt Cas. Just when he was to get up and leave for the second time, Cas spoke.

“I don't _feel_ like an angel.” Cas looked down on his hands and his face was in darkness. The halo's glow had dimmed and the pulsing was gone.

Dean licked his lips. He was afraid to say the wrong thing but he had the odd feeling that Cas wanted him to say something. “OK. Does that bother you?”

Cas looked up at Dean, and his eyes were aglow. Not with grace but with determination Dean thought. Chills went up his spine.

“No.”

Dean's world was spinning. He was not certain he was hearing what Cas was saying. It was fuck early in the morning, late at night, whatever and he'd just seen Cas with a fucking weird, _beautiful_, but weird halo and now Cas was saying things that made his heart clench in fear but also hope.

“Look Cas... you're Cas to me, whether you keep your powers or not. Whether you stay angel... or not.”

“How will I be of need when I don't have my powers?”

Dean sighed. “Look, you don't see my prancing around with powers? Me and Sammy are still fine.”

A true smile flitted over Cas' face. “I don't prance. And it's true, you and Sam are humans, but you're one of the greatest humans I've gotten the privilege to know.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dean hesitated, needed to say this right but he was afraid that if he thought too much about getting it right, he wouldn't say it at all. “And look, uh...” He rubbed a hand over his face. Now he was the one that needed a reboot. “Whatever you choose to be, human or angel, we'll be here. Together. Team free will kicking it in the ass.”

“You too?”

Dean frowned. “Yeah, me too. I'll be there for you.”

There was this pulsating in the air, this crackling of energy that was on the brink of eruption and Dean glanced up at Cas, expecting to see his halo glowing again but all he saw was ocean blue eyes staring at him intently.

“I'd like to be there for you too, Dean.”

The crackling turned to a roar in Dean's ears, drowning out the world, everything except Cas' lips as they moved.

“I'd like to be there _with_ you, Dean.”

Dean's world was swirling, and he was caught up in a vortex of emotions and thoughts that were all jumbled up into a huge knot of 'what the fuck' and he had no clue on where to begin to untangle them.

“You want to... _with me_?” Fear made his mouth dry, but even worse was the awful hope in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Could someone die from hope alone?

Cas moved slowly, maybe afraid that Dean would be startled. He almost laughed out loud. Sam could drive Baby straight through the wall while Jack declared he was the freaking Santa Clause and Dean wouldn't bat an eyelash.

He took Dean's hand in his and just held it there, not moving. Afraid that Dean would move, or jerk his hand away. 

Dean licked his lips, staring at his hand in Cas'. He didn't move, he couldn't. His heart was literally going to burst right through his chest. 

“Dean?” Cas' voice was careful but tinged with worry.

He was an idiot. Thinking about... what was he thinking about? Cas was holding his fucking hand. _His goddamn hand._Cas was holding his hand!

Dean spread his fingers, enveloping them in Cas' hand. His hand was smooth. 

It felt warm, strange. It felt right.

“Just to clarify... this, Cas. Are you asking me, _us_, to be together?”

Cas smiled and it made Dean's heart clench. “Yes.”

“Yes, yes,” Dean whispered hoarsely, trying to be serious but soon he was smiling too. 

He held Cas' hand for a long time until his heart had calmed, his fingers turned numb and his eyelids grew heavy. Dean was half asleep when he realized Cas had eased him down into his bed and was sitting on the edge, next to him.

Still holding Cas' hand in his, Dean fell asleep.


	17. Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is a bored demon and eager to get back to work again. Limbo is a bar and hangout for the demons and angels set to tempt human souls to Light or Darkness but Dean wants to get back to Earth, to humans and his call again. That enthusiasm is dimmed when he finds out which angel he's supposed to be working with. 
> 
> Castiel, to him, is barely wet behind the ears and an insult when Dean has been successful in luring souls over to his side for ages. But working with an angel that is totally new on the job will not be the only surprise Dean is in for.

Dean had waited for months, and for a demon who loved his work, months away from Earth and the eventual human souls he would claim made him pissed. It didn't matter that he finally knew who he was teamed up with. The powers that be, Dean gave _both_ of them a mental finger, had to be kidding. That had been his initial reaction.

Dean was not as well known as Lucifer or Alistair, but he was not far behind. Many of his fellow demons thought he did it for the accolades, a higher seat at the table close to Amara. Her appetite for souls was insatiable and he'd done his fair share helping her out. It was what demons did, collecting souls, all in a bid to gain favor and climb higher up the ladder. 

He had lived long enough to know that the climb never ended and he'd realized long before the ink on his first soul contract dried that he did it for one thing only. He _enjoyed_ it. Sure, he could always be more hands-on and torture souls in the Hall of undying Screams, he'd even done some internship, but in the end, he found it unsatisfying. The souls were already there, the hunt was over. What was the fun in that? Zero fun made this demon utterly bored.

Right now, he'd take that feeling of boredom over the quiet rage simmering inside him. Had he not culled enough souls to get a high ranking angel to work with? He certainly thought so. Instead, he was stuck with Mr. Fledgling. What did the angel even do in Limbo anyway? It seemed just being in Limbo was over his pay grade, but he was going to be Dean's companion. 

Flexing his fingers, Dean scraped the bar table with his claws in annoyance. 

“Hey, get your claws of that table. I polished it this morning!” Crowley's voice rang in annoyance.

Dean looked at the demon. He appeared to be a middle-aged man, slight roundness to his belly. Short of stature and temper and with perpetual three-day growth.

“What's got your panties in a twist, Crowley? Just snap your fingers and be done with it?”

Crowley glared at Dean and snapped his finger. The claw marks vanished. “It's not about being done with it. There are _rules_ in this bar. I'm the barkeeper. I keep the fucking bar!” His voice raised at the last word but none of the other patrons, angels or demons took any notice. They all knew how Crowley was. 

Dean looked at the poster Crowley had put up behind him. The first rule was 'Don't fuck up the bar. The second rule was 'Don't fuck with the bartender'. Not that Crowley shouting made any impression on Dean. “You are keeping the fucking bar. Well, I fuck up the bar. You should be grateful, I'm keeping you busy. Giving you something to _do_.”

Crowley went to open his mouth, ready to spew out the quiet anger simmering in his eyes. Dean knew exactly how to push his buttons. 

“It happened once!” Crowley hissed the words like they were a curse, but Dean could taste the lie.

Dean touched one of his curved horns out of habit, a tiny smile curving at his lips when he recognized Crowley following his movement. “Rules never said anything about literally fucking the bartender. I didn't hear you complain, Crowley.” Dean stroked his horn, his fingers teasing, evoking memories of how he'd held Crowley down, grabbed his wings and utterly ravaged him. 

“Want to polish my horn?” Dean's voice was smooth, a mocking amusement making Crowley spit on the floor. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, you wish. Maybe another time, sweetheart.”

A sudden thud hit Dean in the chest and his mood turned sour again. He didn't have time to utter anything before a power washed over him and all the hair he possessed tried to escape his body. His whole being shuddered and everyone else in the bar stopped to stare.

Dean didn't even need to turn around to know. He did it anyway, his wings appearing behind him out of pure habit. That was not exactly true, Dean knew how to control himself – most of the time – but he wanted to impress, maybe even intimidate the angel.

The angel in the doorway looked like a freaking tax accountant ready to audit for the very first time. Long, ugly ass brown trench coat but that was about the only thing that was unattractive about him. Dark disheveled hair, build like a warrior, well-muscled with thick thighs. Dean mused if he could crush something with those thighs. Face like an angel. Ha! He was so funny. Dean looked into the angel's eyes – a shade of blue that almost made him gasp in surprise - when another thud washed over him. 

Great. He knew this was the fledgling, the bond could calm the fuck down, thank you very much. Dean got up and walked past Crowley, deeper into the bar until he found a corner booth. He'd like to have this conversation as far away from prying eyes as possible. Not that his actions could stop the demons from gossiping. They all talked about how he and Benny had gone separate ways. Not an angel anymore and therefor fallen enough to be discounted as Dean's companion. 

He could see the angel talking to Crowley who didn't hide his contempt for the angel but still pointed out the corner where Dean was. Another smile graced Dean's lips. Maybe it was petty to find pleasure in riling Crowley, but it was fun. The devil knew fun had been lacking in Dean's life for the last few months.

Dean leaned back in the chair as Castiel walked up to him, taking the seat opposite of him. At this distance, he could feel the bond between them like a hum around himself, and he nodded, satisfied. Finally, back in the game, Amara and Chuck be damned. He flashed his eyes black and extended his hand. “Dean.”

The angel looked at his hand like it was a viper, his eyebrow drawn down in a frown and then he sighed as he took it. “Castiel”. The angel's voice was deep and measured. Like he was conscious of every step he took, every word he spoke. Maybe he was fearful – which he should be – although Dean couldn't feel anything. Not yet. 

A spark of electricity tingled from Dean's fingertips, spreading throughout his body. Fuck, better than an orgasm. He was back in town. Let the horned devils gossip about this. The angel's hand was surprisingly soft for being a soldier's but Dean could feel the strength in that handshake. He appreciated strength. Still didn't explain why he was stuck with a hatchling.

“So, _Cas_, I guess this is your first rodeo? Don't worry, I'll guide you through the delicate process. Just do as I do and you'll be OK.”

Castiel stiffened, offended at Dean's tone. “Cut the black, it doesn't work on me.”

Dean's eyes flashed back to a green color, shades of brown reflected in the light of the bar. “Better, Cas?” 

“It's Castiel. Do you have any information on our charge?”

Dean thrummed his clawed fingertips on the table. “What, no foreplay? Straight to business it is I see. What you do before all this?”

Annoyance flashed over Cas' face but he decided to humor Dean's request. “I was part of the glorious omniscient defense of the Throne.”

“Ah, a member of the God squad.” Dean chuckled. “Must've screwed someone over, or screwed _with_ someone to get down here with the minions.”

Castiel stiffened some more.

Dean was impressed that was even possible. Cas clearly had a stick up his ass and it ran deep. 

“You will not talk to me like this. I've seen the Throne of God – “

“Yeah, good for you. I've seen Amara's ass so I guess I win.”

Castiel sighed some more and clenched his teeth. 

Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded for himself. Feathers had some impressive control for a fledgling. He'd have to stop calling him that. If he'd been that close to the throne, that meant he'd seen his fair share of battles. 

“How old are you?”

Cas clenched his jaw. “Are you always this annoying? We are not here to bond. We are here on a mission.”

“Irritated, stuck up, very duty-bound and close to Chuck's face. Chuck says bow and you ask how deep? Hm, not more than a couple of millions I figure.”

Cas bristled. “I am not a youngling!”

Dean's eyes flashed black. “Prove it, Feathers.”

Castiel got up with speed, his feet on the table before he dove. His hand was around Dean's throat as he shoved him back against the wall. “I swear on my Father, if you don't shut up right now, I _will_ smite you.”

Dean inhaled Cas' fury, a heady mix that went straight to his brain. Feathers had some spark. It reminded him of Benny. A very stuck up Benny, but still. He angled his head, his hand on Cas' cheek. “Oh, kinky. I'm game. Your bunk or mine?”

Castiel made a frustrated sound, letting go of Dean. Realizing that he'd either have to crawl over Dean or flash, he used his power and teleported himself back to his seat. It was as if nothing had happened. The angel just adjusted that ridiculous coat, put his hands in his lap and looked at Dean. “I'm not a youngling.”

Dean's eyes turned back to normal. “Uh-huh. Ready for info-dump?” Dean had done this more times then he could count but he could see that Cas was nervous. “Don't sweat it. Just follow my lead. Give me your arm.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “If you try anything – “

“Hey, we're on the same team. I'm offended.”

“You're a demon. You don't get offended.”

“How very judgmental of you. But yeah, you're right, I don't get offended. Now give me your fucking arm.”

Cas put his arm on the table. “Now what?”

“Show some skin, Cas.” Dean grinned.

“I don't recall this being part of the process.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, that's God for you. Read the fine print, Cas. Arm. _Please_.”

Reluctantly, Cas pulled up the arm of his trench coat and then the shirt, revealing his underarm. 

Dean ran a clawed finger down skin that was soft. It was angel skin, but he wasn't picky. Pretty skin was pretty skin. He stopped near Cas' wrist, wrapping his hand around Cas'. He pricked Cas' skin with his claws and Cas tried to pull away which only caused Dean to dig in a little deeper.

“What are you doing?”

“The info-dump? Get with the program, Cas.”

Dean knew that Cas could, if not overpower him, very well match him in strength, as much as that grated to admit. But for the process to work, he had to be still. Doing it half-assed, or a second time was a bitch. He knew. Benny had been less than cooperative when they first meet.

“Be still and tap into your mojo.”

Cas frowned. “My mojo?”

“Wow, no fun near Chuck's throne I see. Your mojo, your Grace, Cas. Flare up with angel juice and we'll get this party started.” He felt a tingling buzz all over his skin and it had nothing to do with the bond. This close to getting a charge again and Dean was excited. Right now he didn't even care that he had to work with Mr. Hyperhalo. Even he couldn't dim his joy. Humans, they were his favorite playthings.

Cas' eyes glowed blue, and Dean could feel another thud go throw him. It was as if his whole body was vibrating. 

“Did you feel that, demon?” Cas' voice sounded uncertain.

Oh, now Cas sensed it. “It's Dean. And yeah, ever since you walked in. It's the bond between us. Now hush. Time to see who our play – um, _charge_ is.” Dean opened up and his demon powers flowed through him, his eyes turning black. He could feel Cas' powers, his being, like a weak echo just under the surface. “Lucky for you, only one of us needs to know the words. It's just a formality, the intention is there already. You're not chickening out?”

“No,” Cas said tersely.

Dean whispered the words.“Oresa adagita olapireta.”

Cas tightened his hold around Dean's wrist as _power_ flowed through them. 

They saw.

A young man of Asian descent, high schooler judging by the math books spread around the table, had his pen in his mouth, his forehead scrunched up in thought. A diploma hung on the wall. _Kevin Tran. First place. Mathathon_. Another heap of books was on the floor. Rain pounded on the windows and a flash of lighting washed over the room before the rumble of thunder was heard. Kevin got up and walked up to the window, observing the downpour. Suddenly he called out into the night. “Pi! What are you doing outside?”

Opening the window, Kevin called out again for the cat, ignoring the torrent of rain that found its way inside. 

The glass on the window shattered as a flash of lightning struck Kevin and he fell down on the floor. 

Thunder crashed and just as Pi, Kevin's gray tabby cat, jumped inside to warmth and safety, lightning struck again. Kevin jerked as the electric current flowed through him before he settled down into a lifeless heap. Pi walked up to him, sniffing his neck before jumping up on Kevin's chest. Sitting down, Pi stared at Kevin for a while before starting to lick his paw.

Suddenly Kevin convulsed, and his eyes flashed open. “I am a Prophet of the Lord”, he whispered, a look of confusion on his face before he passed out again.

Back in Limbo, Dean and Cas opened their eyes at the same time as a forceful thud ripped through them.

A look of horror was on Cas' face. “I'm not qualified to be a guide to a Prophet of the Lord! This must be a mistake.”

Dean let go of Cas' arm, leaning back against the wall. He couldn't hide the grin on his face or the glee in his voice. “Jackpot, Cas. We got ourselves a Prophet. This is going to be so much fun.”

Cas looked like he wanted to run back to God and report the error. “A Prophet! Demons will be after him, angels will try to guide him. It will be a mess.”

Dean just laughed before calling out. “Pamela! Beer for me and Feathers. We got ourselves a Prophet!”


	18. Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is walking home from the Christmas church service when he realizes that he's forgotten to give the porridge to the house-elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this just happened! I hope you enjoy this snippet, lol.

Dean never forgot the food. 

When tending the leeks and potatoes in the spring, when the sun was shining, beating on the barley field, when the cold crept upon the land and when snow and darkness were over the village, Dean never forgot the food.

He'd never seen the elf, but Dean knew he was there. Once in a dream, he'd seen him. A short little man, barely reaching to his knees, with a long beard and gray woolen clothes. The elf had been tending Dean's cows, giving them the sweet, good grass and been startled by his presence. The elf had looked at Dean, a disapproving scowl on his face and whispered, 'Don't scare the cows, Cas says so', before running between his legs and disappearing into the night. 

Dean had woken up, a strange smile on his lips. Now he knew the name of the farm's elf, Cas. The evening after the dream, Dean gave Cas an extra-large portion of barley porridge. Dean never forgot the food.

Then, one time he did.

Winter had the farm and the land as a whole in a cold grip, and the fare from the Sunday church service had been difficult, even when Dean had hopped on Gabriel's sled and hiked until they reached Gabriel's farm. From there, the cold seemed to increase in severity and the wind clawed him with icy fervor. As Dean trudged home despite draping himself in a wool coat, his fingers covered in wool mittens and his face almost disappearing under a wool hat, the notion of being warm seemed but a false memory. 

The hat had belonged to his father, John Winchester, who'd always had a big head, both figuratively and literally. It had gotten him dead. Crazy old fool, chasing fish on the ice when that winter had been one of the mildest in ancient memory. He'd plummeted to the bottom of the lake faster than Lumpy ran as she chased mice in the fields.

Dean had been nervous to tend the farm then, on his own. It had been _his_, and not his father's anymore. But he'd been talented, to his grim satisfaction. His father had not been the man to lavish either him or his younger brother with praise. Farming was harsh, and nature even harsher. Talent and hard work only got you so far, the rest was up to Mother Nature and the spirits and fairies.

The shed with all his tools and the larger shadow that loomed over the shed – the stable with his animals which was connected to the house – bought him comfort and warmth. Closing the door behind, Dean left winter behind for the day being. The smell of animals was a comforting one. After discarding his winter clothes, Dean went and checked on the animals. He opened the small door separating house from stable and tended to the hay, spreading it out. Some dry hay for his cow Barley-Bean and dried corn for all his chickens. 

He checked on the dry meats, made sure there were no rats, but with Lumpy being rather big-boned he deduced, she had much to feed on. His hay mattress was still viable but Dean preferred to spend his night in the stable with Barley-Bean and Chick, Black Beek, Stumpy and Precious. Not that the chickens were cuddly but together with Barley-Bean they produced enough heat that Dean didn't have to spend the nights shivering. 

The festivities for Yule were on this day, and when all the chores were attended to, Dean dressed up again, packing his mincemeat pie and some coins together with a candle he was going to gift to Jack, his brother Sam's boy. Cards would be played and the women would bring ale, cheese, and bread. Some would be dancing, not Dean though. He'd stopped that when Amara and Emma died years ago. There was nothing to dance for. Well, the only lady in his life now was Barley-Bean, and the other villagers would think it strange to dance not with Billy but with a bovine.

Despite Dean's misgivings, the Yule feast brought some joy to his heart. It was nice to forget the hardships of winter, the hardships of farming, the hardship that was his lost loved ones and his entire life. Maybe it was the ale – Benny had brewed a special blend – maybe it was the spiced cakes, but as Dean staggered home the darkness was thick, night upon them. His boots crunched under newly fallen snow and the air was crisp and clear. What wasn't clear though, was his head.

He'd saved a bowl of barley porridge for his elf, even stuffed dry apple slices in there. But warm ale and the warm comfort of his home was at the forefront of his mind and when he entered the stable he sank down on the smooth wooden floor. The hay was acceptable and as Dean rolled over to one side, grabbing Black Beek and hugging her tightly, the bowl of porridge was gone from his mind.

Dean woke up with a start and grabbed a shovel. Someone was moving around the stable, close to where Barley-Bean was sleeping. “Who there? Show yourself, you fiend!”

A figure, the same size as a man loomed in the shadows. “You calling me fiend? Who does not honor the sacred contract? On Yule of all days! But don't worry, Dean, I'm not here to slay your cow. Yet.” Walking out from the darkness, Dean saw that it indeed was a man. Wearing a strange, gray coat, what appeared to be white linen pants and a tunic and thick boots, this stranger was standing in Dean's house. Violating it. For good measure, he tightened his hold on the shovel.

Dean was about to voice his objection when he noticed the man's eyes shining blue, like that brightest star in the night sky. The words the man had spoken earlier finally came to him. “My cow? Why would you slay Barley-Bean?” He looked at the man, and despite his misgivings, he noticed that the man was breath-taking in his beauty. Still made him an intruder.

“Where's my porridge? I know you sometimes forget the treat but the whole bowl? I'm disappointed. So angry.” He flashed his teeth and chuckled before his brow furrowed. “I speak honestly, where is my porridge?”

As Dean tried to assemble his thoughts, his shock at what this man was implying Stumpy woke up with a start. She burred up her feathers, saw the man and hoped along until she reached him. The man picked her up and smiled as he stroked her. Stumpy closed her eyes, content to rest there.

“You're my... farm elf?”

The man scoffed. “I'm not _yours_, Dean. Nor do I claim ownership of the animals. I care for them. You seem to have done a good job. Your heart is good. So, come now. Not everyone gets to see me but I really want that porridge.”

He walked through the door separating the house and stable as surely as he owned the structure. Stopping at some floorboards near the fireplace, he placed his weight on it, rocking back and forth. “Mm, good. Still holding up.” He looked around the room, and that displeased frown appeared again. “I see spider webs.”

Dean squinted. “I don't see shit in this darkness.” 

Cas walked up to him and slapped him over the head. “Manners. Foul tongues sour the milk.”

Wanting to say something sarcastic, Dean bit his tongue. This elf seemed more prickly than the others his villagers had claimed to see. And taller. And very easy on the eyes. Scooping up a ladle of barley porridge, Dean poured it into a small kettle. “What's your name?”

“Castiel,” the elf said. He peeked at the porridge, then took a step back so Dean could heat it up. After a few seconds, he was at Dean's side, peeking over his shoulder. “There are cinnamon sticks in the cupboard.”

Dean sighed and went to get the sticks. Putting one stick in the kettle, he went to sit down but Castiel arched an eyebrow. Not wanting to get transformed into a cat, lose a toe or get his chickens wiped out, Dean tried to sound pleasant. “I know. Thank you...”

Castiel pointed at the cupboard.

Getting up, Dean grabbed two more sticks and put them in the porridge. He looked back at Castiel who seemed pleased. 

“Besides the cobwebs, Barley-Bean would like more hay to sleep on. Her knees are getting old.”

“She is three!”

“And Stumpy really appreciates your cuddles and all the corn.” 

Dean didn't know how to answer that, so he waited until the porridge bubbled before scooping it up again. Castiel had already grabbed a bowl. Pouring the barley carefully, he was not sure if elves could get burned, he gave Castiel a spoon and watched as he started eating.

Castiel sat down, enjoying each spoon like it was the best porridge he'd ever had.

“Was it – “

“Shh!” Castiel glared at him, and when Dean stopped talking, he nodded in satisfaction. 

Apparently, porridge could only be appreciated in silence. When Cas was done, scraping the last morsels of porridge out of the bowl, he grabbed a cinnamon stick and bit of a huge chunk.

Dean opened his mouth to object, but closed it again. Maybe it was an elf thing. “Is the... uh, stick good?”

“Would I eat it, if it wasn't?”

Probably, this elf seemed to have a bigger stick in his ass than most. Maybe he needed to restock it. Dean had the common sense not to voice that out loud though. He could go without another slap.

“No.”

Finished with the porridge, Castiel got up. “Thank you. It was lovely. Oh, here.”

Dean saw that Castiel had what appeared to be bark in his hands and he expected Dean to take it. Dean took the thin bark from Castiel. “Uh, thank you. Cinnamon stick for wooden chip. I appreciate it.” See, he could be cordial.

Castiel walked up to Dean and slapped him over the head again. “It's rude to be mocking to your elders.”

“I wasn't mocking – “ The elf was giving him that look again, so Dean closed his mouth. He figured now wasn't the time to ask where his beard was. Although, he looked pleasant without a beard too. Dean hadn't found anyone worthwhile looking at since Amara and Emma had passed, but Castiel was pleasing. Only if his mood wasn't so... fickle. And he was an elf.

Brushing off his clothes, Castiel smiled. “Make tea with this bark, it will dampen your headache. Do not drink that much again. Your animals depend on you.”

“Thank you, but I only had a – “ Castiel put his finger on Dean's mouth.

“Listen to your elders. It was good making your acquaintance, Dean.” The last word hung in the air as Castiel vanished, leaving Dean with bark in hand and confusion in his mind.

Dean was still holding his bark, as he went through the entire house and stable. He even peeked outside but found no trace of Castiel. Rubbing his eyes, Dean sighed and went back inside. He needed to stop with the ale. 

Tiredness hit him and he realized that it was still night. Putting away the bark, Dean curled up next to Barley-Bean and grabbed a blanket that he pulled over himself. His last thoughts before sleep took him was of the elf known as Castiel.


	19. Hotels/Motels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Dean is yet again alone with Sam.

Dean opened the door.

The room was like every other crappy motel room they'd been at. He didn't say anything, just grabbed his bag and went to check which bed had the softest mattress. Not that he thought he'd be getting lucky with that. Worn out, springs poking his back, or sometimes actually missing, blood stains and other stains he didn't want to think about. He'd seen it all. 

The bed was decent, so he went and checked out the tiny bathroom. Opening the lid to the crapper, it was clean. No cockroaches had scattered as he turned the lights on, so that was a plus. He was grateful that there was no plastic drape, those were nasty. Turning on the shower, the water dropped slowly onto the yellow tiles. Lukewarm water. Dean sighed. He'd let Sammy go first. 

Turning back, he noticed the wallpaper. A dark blue with weird green blotches. It looked like puke but at least it seemed clean. 

Sammy had already claimed the bed opposite the TV and was pulling out his clothes, putting them in a drawer that was on the short end of the bed. Dean was about to stop him when dad walked in, a storm of a man. Dropping his duffel bag straight on the floor, he took in the room with one swooping gaze, his eyes narrowing in on Sammy.

“Dean! How many times how I told you to take care of that? We need to be ready to leave at any moment. You got that? How many times do I need to tell you?”

A feeling of unfairness rose up, even mingled with anger that lately had started to bubble just beneath the surface. Dean pushed it down and nodded. “Yes, sir.” He knew his dad wanted an answer. Especially, when he acted like this. He went to Sammy and grabbed his stuff. 

“Just let them be in the bag, OK, Sammy?” He grabbed Sammy's two sweaters, folded them and carefully put them back inside. He ignored his little brother's disappointed look.

“Alright, I put some food in the fridge. Here are a few bucks. I'll be back tomorrow. Just a quick hunt for a vamp. You take care of Sammy now, Dean.” His dad gave him that look, that settled into determination on Dean's part.

“Yes, dad.” 

“Sammy, come here! You listen to your brother now.” He looked at Dean again, as he kissed Sammy's head. “Don't go outside.”

He ruffled Dean's hair before grabbing his bag and closed the door behind him.

Dean watched through the curtains as his dad jumped into the Impala and drove off.

“You think they have cartoons here, Dean?”

Tearing his eyes away from the view, Dean sighed. “I'm sure, let's see what we can find.”

Looking through the channels two times didn't yield any cartoons. Dean went to his backpack and grabbed a comic book. “Here you go, Sammy.”

Grabbing the comic, Sammy frowned. “I've already read this twice.”

Irritation colored Dean's voice. “Yeah well, it's all we got so you read that or count these weird blobs on the wall.”

Sam walked over to his bed, threw himself on the cover and started reading.

Sighing, Dean opened the fridge. He saw three bottles of coke, a sandwich – just the one, and a package of sausages. They'd already had dinner at a drive-through, so this would work as breakfast. Closing the fridge door, Dean dug his hands into his jeans pockets and fished out the wrinkly dollar bills. Ten bucks and a quarter. He'd seen a Gas N' Sip just a short walk away and no matter how crappy the motels were, there was always a vending machine. 

Checking the locks again, and attaching the security chain, Dean went to his bag and touched the pocket where the gun was. He liked knowing it was there, just in case. Although he hated the thought that he had to use it, he was grateful it was there. He knew all about the things that went bump into the night.

“Sammy, time for a shower. You go first. I'll see if I can't get a kid channel for you and if not, I'll... I don't know, tell you a story. Then it's bedtime.”

“It's not a kid channel, Dean, it's cartoons,“ Sammy complained. He still did as Dean told him. He usually did. Sammy was a good kid.

Dean opened the door.

“Don't open your eyes yet. Don't cheat.” Cas' voice was playful but Dean kept his eyes closed. He could hear the door close behind him, and then muted footfalls. The sound of curtains being pulled away reached him.

“I'm not cheating.”

“They are still closed?” Cas was amused and Dean could feel his arms around his waist. Turning towards Cas's voice, he whispered. “Yeah, Cas. They're closed. See?”

“Mm.”

Dean could feel a light kiss on his the side of his neck. A pleasant warmth spread through him. “Can I open them now? I've had them closed the entire ride.”

“So eager. Open them.”

Dean opened his eyes, taking in the room.

The first thing he saw was the huge four-poster bed in dark wood with a fancy cover and a huge heart-shaped bouquet near the side table. A bottle of champagne popped up from an ice bucket. The carpet was plush, a rick cream color and the wallpapers were thicker than fancy toilet paper. A deep royal blue, with mirrors and candles lit that spread a warm glow in the room.

Leather seats and a big flat screen covered a wall as Dean walked further in. He could see the lights of other skyscrapers in the window. Opening the bathroom door, the first thing he noticed was that the room had a jacuzzi, sauna and a wooden deck rounding a corner. As he followed the path he saw the door to the outside balcony and the corner of another pool.

The walking closet was bigger than some of the rooms he'd been in.

“Cas, this is – “

Dean turned back and went to the fridge. It was stocked with beer, three of his favorite pies and coke. 

“We have the all-inclusive deal, so we'll get every meal. Rooms-service or restaurant. I just know it's a beer you really like.” Cas smiled. “They have three kinds of bacon at the breakfast buffet – “

Cas walked up to Dean and grabbed his hand. He looked at the simple golden ring, his smile never leaving his face. “So, you like your surprise,_husband_?”

Dean grinned. “Cas, like it? I fucking love it. The walk-in closet is bigger than our room in the Bunker!”

“Wait till you see the pool table.”

It was a nice hotel room. Almost too nice. He could smell the scent from some of the rooms, the sticky wallpapers, the lingering smell of smoke. His stomach growling with hunger but also Sammy's smile when he got an extra cracker or his favorite cereals that Dean had managed to snag. But that had been then.

This was now. 

Dean looked at Cas, his husband. He deserved nice things, a nice hotel room on his honeymoon. And he couldn't think of something better than a future together with Cas.

“Then come and show me the pool table.”


	20. Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poem =)

Sometimes he could feel a presence in his dreams  
quietly sitting in the shadows, undisturbed  
shielding him from the worst of it  
the nightmares and the screams   
A gentle whispering of 'Dean'  
Surely, it was just his imagination

Sometimes he did notice the looks Cas gave him  
they seemed deeper, filled with unspoken questions  
a silent wondering of something more  
slithering away, burning bright, then turn dim  
And in its stead, just eyes of blue  
Surely, it was just his imagination

Sometimes he recalled words aimed at him and his brother both  
through a haze of sickening denial, yet still dread  
as Cas lay dying and spoke from his heart  
'I love you', it came to him like a most serious of oath  
Like an arrow finding target so true  
Surely, it was just his imagination

Sometimes he felt lingering touches on his skin  
and a hand that squeezed tighter, leaving fire in its wake  
but it could not be for him, with his gift of pain and grief,   
He was not worthy, just the thought of them together was a sin  
Yet recalling every touch as Cas healed him, so gently  
Surely, it was just his imagination

Sometimes he dreamed of something more than this battle  
to stand and just breathe out this tension inside,  
and embrace a sense of peace so brittle and frail,  
but God took Jack, will and thoughts in a rattle  
To hope for an ending with Cas filled with love  
Surely, it was just his imagination


	21. Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas are on a getaway, relaxing in a cabin somewhere when a storm and lightning ensues.

The cabin did nothing to hide the fact that they were surrounded by a storm. Deep rumblings from the sky above them traveled down and Dean put a hand on the wooden wall to make sure the whole thing wasn't going to collapse on top of them. The rain had already pitterpatted on the windows for close to an hour and showed no sign of decreasing.

“Looks like we're going to be here for a while.” Cas came out from the bedroom, in a soft blue Henley and long black pajama bottoms.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Wow, looking great, Cas. Can't wait to rip that shirt off.”

Cas laughed softly as he walked to the kitchen. “Not everything I wear is an attempt to seduce you,” he called out. 

“It should be!” Dean came after, watching as Cas opened a kitchen cabinet, searching for something. “Do you know how many nights I dreamed of tearing away that trench coat of your?”

In the second cabinet, Cas finally found what he was looking for. “I think an occasion like this calls for popcorn.” He opened the package, removing the plastic from a bag. “As for your dreams, on average two times a week.”

“Hey... you spied on me?” Dean paused only for a second. “Bet you those were good dreams though.” 

Cas opened the door to the microwave. “I didn't spy on you. But the um... intensity of your dreams was something that I couldn't fail to notice. I didn't know exactly what you were dreaming about, all I knew was that it was about me and that it was... intense.”

The small humming of the microwave was barely audible over a crash of lightning. Dean crossed his arms. “Ha, then you did spie on me!”

An occasional pop could be heard from the microwave, soon followed by a little choir of pops. “It's not spying when you called out my name.”

“Alright, uh. Maybe that happened once... or twice. Anyway, you look good, Cas.”

“You're not going to change?” 

Dean looked down on his jeans and sweater. “What's wrong with this?”

Another lightning bolt crashed down, illuminated the small kitchen in a brief flash of light. “You hardly look the part.”

“What part am I supposed to look like?” The microwaved pinged, announcing the popcorn was done. 

Grabbing the bag, Cas shook it, spreading the salt around. He opened it and the aroma of popcorn escaped, slowly permeating the entire kitchen. “The 'Cabin vacation during a thunderstorm' part. It requires sleepwear, popcorn and a good horror movie.”

“I didn't know that was what we were doing, but alright. Back in a sec.”

He came back out, in a green Henley and matching green, checkered pajama-pants. “I don't know when you had time to pick this out but you nailed the size.” Cas was already seated in the gray sofa, a huge comfortable piece that almost swallowed you up when you sat down among the numerous pillows.

Cas cleared his throat. “I know we talked about our first vacation, just the two of us and the cabin came up. I thought this would be suitable for a cabin trip.” As Dean sat down next to Cas, thunder crashed right above them. 

Dean smiled and grabbed Cas' hand. He kissed it lightly. “It's perfect.” He was quiet for a moment, a wrinkle appearing on his forehead. “This reminds me of when I first saw you.”

“The movie and popcorn?” Cas joked.

“No, dumbass. The lightning and storm. Over the barn, you remember? And you walking in like some hot snack.”

“Hot snack?” Cas tilted his head curiously.

Dean grinned. “It's what the cool kids call it nowadays. At least, that's what Jack told me.” He put his hand in the bowl, grabbing some popcorn. “Mm, we have a beer?”

“Yes, down near the couch. And yes. I do remember walking inside that barn over a decade ago.” Cas bent down and handed Dean a beer.

“The lightning was very extra, Cas. I thought I'd met a demon.”

“Love at first stab.” Cas smiled.

Dean made a face. “Uh-huh, so Jack told you.”

Cas cuddled in, close to Dean. “Yes, we were talking about love and how you knew you loved someone. And he mentioned that you and him had had that conversation before.”

The rain outside seemed to have gone from mild pitter-patter to a furious beating. It drummed on the windows in an uneven rhythm, orchestrated by the wind's guidance. Dean pulled out the remote. “Kids, they talk too much. I don't know if I loved you straight away, but that entrance definitely caught my attention. The movie in the player?”

“Yes. And here are our blankets.”

Dean grabbed them and narrowed his eyes when he opened one up. “Green and purple hearts and D+C? Where did you get these?”

Cas took a swipe of his beer. “Rowena.”

“Rowena bought them? That's weird. Nice but weird. What kind of weird Etsy-shop did she go to?” Dean pressed play. 

“Oh, she made them herself.” Cas grabbed some more popcorn. “I think tomorrow, we'll do butter popcorn.”

“Rowena knits?”

Nodding, Cas adjusted the blanket over his knees. “Apparently it was required for membership in the Grand Coven. And then there were some troubling events and she didn't knit for some time. It's warm, quality wool.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “Alright, I'm ready for movie night. Let's go... what are we watching?”

Cas smiled as the title card came up.

“Frozen? I'm not complaining. Let's go.”

Dean wrapped his arm around Cas. Outside the lightning and storm raged on, but in Dean's heart, the storm had finally settled.


	22. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's early in the morning and Dean's coffee mug is defiled. Dean isn't happy.

They were still new, if you could call knowing someone for over a decade new. It was new though, the way Dean could openly smile at Cas, how he could allow himself to touch Cas without fear of it being too much or too revealing. It was new, yet some things never changed.

“What's this green stuff and why is it in my coffee mug?” Dean's voice carried a hint of irritation. It wasn't like they didn't have other coffee mugs. Cas wasn't in bed when he'd woken up, so Dean had trudged along to the kitchen to get his caffeine fix. He'd tried tea that Cas' had recommended, just to be nice that one time cause he _didn't_ have a problem without coffee. He didn't find Cas in the kitchen, instead, he saw a very happy Sam perched on a stool.

“Morning, Dean. Still grumpy without your daily dose?” Sam was already digging in on his breakfast, a bowl of something that looked like it had cooked way too long. Probably seeds or barley. Seeds _and_ barley.

“Morning.” He glanced at Sam, who had a suspicious smile on his face. It was too early in the morning to exude that amount of happiness, even if you were Sam. “Did you defile my mug with that witch potion of yours?”

“All other coffee mugs where gone, so yeah. And it's not green tea. It's Yerba mate. It's good. It has a nice acquired taste and besides your coveted caffeine it also has that stuff you avoid like the plague.”

“You found a tea that contains rules and French cars? Color me impressed.”

“Vitamins,” Sam said with expiration. “And if you really want to know, Rowena made this blend. It has the right amount of vitamins, minerals, and iron. I really feel my stamina has gone up. I can ru – 

Dean made a face. “Rowena made it. For your stamina? Uh-huh. It's too early in the morning for that, Sammy and definitely too much info. And don't pretend like you didn't say 'acquired'. Anything that needs acquiring to usually tastes like horseshit.” Walking over to the sink, Dean rinsed his mug. “I eat my vitamins. There some vitamins in strawberries, right?”

Sam took another spoonful of his blend and glanced up from reading a newspaper that Dean hadn't noticed before.“You eat peanut butter and strawberry jam. That's hardly nutritious.”

“I don't see why. Strawberry jam is made of strawberries. Strawberry is a fruit and fruits have vitamins in them. Yeah? Case closed.” He peered into the mug and sighed. “Well, this Yerba blend is Yerba bad. You seen Cas?”

Sam shook his head. “He's your boyfriend. You _share_ a room, Dean, why should I know where Cas is?”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but already felt a headache coming on. It was too early for snippy comments from Sam. “It's not like he's attached to my hip or something.”

“Dean, that's a visual I don't need.”

“He's a vision though.” Dean had been keeping silent for over a decade about Cas and how ridiculously hot he was, so he was allowed a bit extra. He opened the can reserved for coffee, only to find it empty. Just as he was to close it, he noticed something rattling at the bottom. What the hell? Turning the can upside down, a small piece of paper fell out.

_Go back to bed. You're grumpy without your coffee_.

Well, yeah. He would be grumpy cause he hadn't had his morning coffee. He recognized Cas' handwriting though. 

“When did Jack go grocery shopping?”

“Yesterday.” 

There was that thread of amusement in Sam's voice again. Teenagers. And teenagers with cosmic powers were even worse. He'd have a long talk with Jack about the importance of adult beverages later. Dean pulled his robe tight around himself and headed back to his bedroom.

He noticed the note on the door. A pink thing standing out for the whole world to see. _Go straight to bed_.

Dean narrowed his eyes. Cas was very adamant about him going back to bed. He was sure this wasn't some sexy kind of game – Dean was into some very kinky stuff – but this was definitely unusual. When Dean opened the door, the room was pitch black. 

Just as he was about to turn the lights on, he noticed the post-it with glow-in-the-dark writing. _Don't turn on the lights. Bed, Dean_.

Still confused and suspicious as hell, Dean couldn't help but chuckle. He eased out of his robe and found his way to the bed in the dark. Slipping under the covers he waited. He was not sure for what and just as he was about to complain he felt movement next to him. “Cas?” Then the smell hit him.

He could almost hear the smile in Cas' voice. “On the count of three.”

“Uh, one, two... Three?”

Soft light flooded the room.

Cas stood next to him, holding a tray in his hands, an expectant smile on his face.

Dean recognized his favorite coffee mug and the steam reaching high told him his much-needed coffee awaited him, freshly brewed. A tiny vase with a rose was next to the coffee and something he would never fail to recognize. “Wow, Cas, this is very nice.” His gaze flitted from Cas' gorgeous face, his smile wide and very pleased, to the apple pie in front of him

“Fresh pie and your favorite ham sandwich.”

“The whiskey one?”

Cas put the tray down on Dean's lap. “The very one.”

“This is very... wow. Thanks, Cas. I guess that's why Sam was out there in the kitchen, hardly containing his excitement.” Dean brought the mug of coffee to his lips and took a sip. The warm liquid immediately kicked in, taking the edge of the worst if his need. What's the occasion?”

“Oh, I forgot!” Cas quickly turned and went to the bathroom.

Dean raised an eyebrow in confusion and put the coffee mug down. Just as he was enjoying his first piece of very tasty morning pie – he should totally make this an everyday thing – Cas was back with a red heart-shaped balloon in his hand. “Happy Valentines, Dean.”

“What? It's – “

“Today.” Cas looked at Dean, pausing briefly before continuing.” And I thought we have a lot of firsts to make up for...”

A familiar ache erupted in Dean's heart mingled with the echo of an age-old fear, but he pushed it aside. He had Cas. “I'm down for every first together with you. Come here, Cas.”

Cas let go of the balloon and Dean chuckled as it floated straight up until it hit the ceiling.

Kissing him, Cas mumbled, “Happy Valentine's Day, Dean.”

A smile tugged at Dean's mouth and he embraced him hard. “Happy Valentine's Day, Cas.”


	23. No Exit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean catches trouble in the wind.

The woods were never quiet but there was something in the air that made Dean's hackles rise. He pointed his ears towards the cause of his suspicion and at first, he didn't catch anything. His paws were silent on the grass as he slowly padded further into the woods. Then he caught a scent on the breeze and an involuntarily growl rose from deep within him. Humans. 

_Dean!_

He caught the alarmed thought of Bobby, at this distance it was muted, the markings that declared it was the call of his first sentry barely noticeable. If they'd ventured this deep into his territory it meant that the sentries had been disabled. 

A dull echo bloomed suddenly in his mind and he had to grind his jaws to stop the howl that was on his lips. He contemplated changing but dismissed it almost immediately. In the woods his wolf was better suited, he had claws that could dig into the soil and his eyes and ears were much sharper. He started running in a wide circle, following the scent until it became stronger but at a huge rock formation, he stopped and wrinkled his nose in confusion. The scent just vanished. As if it hadn't been there at all. Dean backtracked and sniffed the air. Nothing. 

Instinct made him turn his head just as something whizzed past him. The echo of a shot and Dean was off, his heart hammering in his chest. _Guns._ Several echoes followed and Dean ran like his life depended on it. It probably did. His claws dug into the earth, his tail adjusting to the weight of his body. As he ran, he carefully avoided leading his pursuers to the second, hidden den where he hoped the pups were safe.

Several scents assaulted him at once and Dean glanced ahead. Shadows tried to merge with the greenery but he could smell them. More humans, more guns. Fuck them. Dean was panting, but he could run for longer. He had four legs. Pushing himself, he ran deeper into the woods, zigzagging until he couldn't hear them anymore. He sniffed the air but caught nothing.

He tried picking up on Sam, his brother but all he got was a tiny vibration. _Bobby_. Dean walled off his anger and fear. He had time for that later. Carefully, he made his way back again, the area was saturated with the stench of humans, aiming for a hidden entrance to the second den when he saw that the humans had found it. Not the actual den but they were too close for comfort. He knew Lisa, Pamela, Kaia, Benny, hell, all of them would give their lives to protect the cubs but in a close encounter with however the fuck was intruding, he feared they'd be on the losing end, no matter how many guns they had. He sent Benny, his lieutenant, an encouraging thought.

He would have to lure the men away from this place.

Slowly, he walked out from the dense vegetation and stopped abruptly, feigning surprise, his ears alert. He turned suddenly, growling and hoped some of them would forget what they actually knew about shifters. The soft thud of feet on the ground and excited voices told him it worked. A gun was fired but the aim had been way off. Dean saw muted lights, fuck, they had laser aims. These people meant business. Another shot and Dean disappeared.

Dean ran fast, but not too fast. He needed them to tag along.  
He slowly lured the men away, deeper and deeper into the woods, showing himself now and then to give them that little boost of hope that they would catch him. Soon their confident calls turned angry and frustrated. “Where'd the damn wolf go? Fucking freak.”

Another voice called out. “Man, Michael is not gonna be happy when he hears about this.” After over an hour of not seeing any traces of him, the men finally gave up.

_A stranger._

A crack made his ears stand up in attention, a familiar scent, _Emma,_ in the air but he'd already caught the scent of someone else, who wasn't pack. Another wolf. From a dense patch of bushes, a huge black wolf appeared, his blue eyes following him. The wind carried the intruder's essence to him, a metallic scent of iron hidden deep inside what was almost an overpowering note of honey. He shook his head at the odd combination.

The other scent, sharp now, made him curl his lips up in anger The scent of blood, from one of his own. Emma. 

The black wolf made a gesture like it wanted Dean to follow along. Dean hesitated. He'd never seen this wolf before but the other scent made him anxious and when the strange wolf actually whined, Dean decided. He couldn't abandon his own. 

When the black wolf was sure Dean followed, he picked up speed. Twigs pulled at Dean's fur but it was thick enough not to bother him. Fear clawed at him. He didn't know how Emma had been injured or why she was out of the den but he would bring her home. 

The strange wolf was fast, and strong, jumping over rocks and fallen trees effortlessly. Dean was behind him, following his move jump by jump. He was agile and moved like he knew these woods, although Dean knew that was impossible.

Suddenly the black wolf jumped to the right, his hindlegs flexing as he took off from the ground. Dean didn't have time to think when he felt earth turn to air beneath him. Surprise flashed through him before he realized he was falling. 

With a whine he landed on four legs, the impact reverberating through him. He blinked and looked up. He was in a huge hole. Pacing back and forth. he tried to find another way out, hoping this hole was a natural occurrence but had to give up when all he saw was dirt, thin roots and worms.

Anger flashed through him and Dean shifted. The cold hit him at once, and although he was still winded from the run, the warmth was slowly dissipating. He was stark naked but the had something the wolf hadn't. Hands.

Dean dug his hands into the wall of earth, finding it not solid but hopefully strong enough to hold. Jumping up, he pushed his feet in, only to slide down slowly, dragging dirt with him. He tried another place but it yielded the same result. Glancing up, he saw that the black wolf was looking down at him.  
“Help me up!”

The wolf blurred, a light shimmering around him, and a naked man stood in front of Dean. Even in the dim light, he could see the man's blue eyes, the same as in wolf form, although the dark of his hair was richer as a human.

“I can.” The man's voice was dark and smooth. “But I won't.”

Dean frowned in surprise as the man bent down, picking something up and holding it to his ear.

“Castiel here. I got him. Sending the coordinates right now.” He put the earpiece away and calmly looked down at Dean.

Dean considered shifting back to wolf, the cold was getting to him even though his blood ran hotter than humans, but then he couldn't talk with the man above him.

“What the hell are you doing? You working with them?

Castiel just cocked his head, staring down at Dean. “I don't owe you any explanation.”

“Where's Emma?” Dean shouted. “I swear if you laid your hands on her – “

Castiel turned his back to Dean, apparently not considering him a threat at all. “I'd never hurt a child. I'm not a monster, you dog.”

Dean ignored the insult. “Fuck you are, turning on your own people. When I get out of here, I'll rip your throat out.”

Castiel faced Dean again, pointing two guns at him, one smaller than the other. “I do appreciate this talk but it's getting rather cold now, so I'll shift soon. Which do you prefer? The big kiss or gentle peck?”

Shifting in a whirl of light, Dean growled out his anger. 

Castiel shrugged and aimed the bigger gun at Dean. “Big kiss it is.”

Knowing that Dean didn't really have anywhere to go, he jumped anyway. Maybe he could scare the asshole so he fell down with him. Mid-air he felt a sting in his neck.

A goddamn needle. His claws flexed as he pawed the dirt walls before tumbling back down to the bottom. The last thing he saw was the image of a naked Castiel, smiling grimly in satisfaction. Bastard.


	24. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep doesn't bring Dean any comfort.

Dean had a complicated history with relationships, and his relationship with sleep was no different. He slept a minimum amount of hours when on hunts and even when he was off his body had accustomed to less. And in those moments when he was pulled under, he seldom found peace. Just like in the waking world.

No, Dean's world of sleep was littered with nightmares.

A vague feeling of something amiss as he was walking through the woods and the ground turned to mud, thick and dirty, threatening to pull him under, not giving him an inch of freedom. She was always first, which was weird since he'd only known her for a day. But Emma had been his daughter. She smiled and Dean screamed as the knife penetrated flesh. 

Jack was there, his eyes gone, holding Dean close. “Shh...” 

“Jack,” Dean panted through his pain. “I'm so sorry, I should have saved you. If I knew that God – “ 

A cold finger against his lips as Jack hushed him again. “It's okay.”

The angel blade was in Dean's hand and he tried with all his will to drop the cursed thing but his fingers gripped tighter around the handle.

“You've wanted me dead from the beginning.”

Ice gripped his heart but he couldn't let go. He looked at Jack, fear rushing through him. “No, no, no!” He plunged the blade straight into Jack's heart.

Jack's eyes flashed of light as his mouth opened in a silent scream. He tried to drop down on his knees but the mud was in the way. Instead, he grabbed Jack by his arms, trying to haul him up. “Jack!”

Dean woke up with a start, his heart pounding wildly as he looked around the room.

“Dean...It's alright, Dean.” Cas spoke low, his voice comforting.

The feeling of fear and absolute panic still held Dean's heart in an iron grip. “Jack, is he...”

Cas took Dean's hand in his and wrapped his arms around the hunter. “Jack is alright. It was a nightmare, Dean. Just a nightmare.”

Exhaling deeply, Dean blinked, trying to make sense of everything. “A nightmare?... Jack isn't... He's safe?”

He angled his body so he could face Cas as the world he knew came back to him. A world where Jack had died and lived again. A world where Cas had died and lived again. A world with living nightmares, where one didn't need sleep to call them forth. A world where God was the true monster.

Cas looked at him softly, allowing all the love he'd been hiding for so long to shine through. “Jack is safe, Dean. In his room, listening to Led Zeppelin. You're safe. I'll watch over you.”

Dean exhaled a soft breath, his eyes locked onto Cas. “Thanks, Cas.” It was just two mumbled breaths but he felt his eyes going heavy again. He nuzzled close to Cas, listened to his heartbeat and sleep swiftly swallowed him again. This time he fell so deep that even the nightmares couldn't reach him.


	25. Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean discovers that Jack has a tattoo. He's not pleased.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dean looked at Jack in the rearview mirror, but the young man was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. At least, that was something Dean taught him, that he remembered. Dean gritted his teeth and unclenched his hands from the Impala's steering wheel.

After a beat of silence, Dean spoke again. “What's the name of the place?”

Jack looked up then. “It's the best place in town, it's not like I went to some seedy underground bar. I didn't do it to myself either.”

“Well, a house point for you for not being that stupid. Did I tell you you're grounded?”

Jack sighed. “Yes. Several times.” 

Dean eased off on the gas pedal. “Hey, don't give me attitude!”

Raising his hands in protests, Jack erupted. “I'm not!” Noticing the look Dean gave him in the mirror, he spoke with more reserve. “I'm not. I get it. I fucked up. You're mad.”

Dean scoffed. “Oh, I'm not mad. I'm furious. Gimme the name.”

Jack fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie. “'Under your skin'”.

Shaking his head, Dean entered the name in the GPS on his phone. “Under your skin. What kind of irresponsible tattoo artist lets a kid do that to himself?” Turning to face Jack, he spoke again. “I hope you didn't have to fake my signature. And you better not lie again.”

Jack sighed. “I'm eighteen, dad.” 

“Not in this household. Not anymore. You've been demoted.”

Jack frowned. “You can't... demote my age.”

Dean chuckled. “Watch me. You're sitting in the backseat. If you keep mouthing off you'll be grounded. Wait, that's already happening. I'm taking back your allowance. All of it. If you so much as want to buy a pack of gum, you go through me. Questions?”

Jack opened his mouth, probably to object but noticing the look Dean gave him, he thought better of it. “No.”

'Under your skin' didn't look like a tattoo place Dean had in mind. It was bright, airy and everything seemed clean and sterile. Like a dentist's office. Giving the late hour when Dean had discovered Jack's surprise, it was almost closing time. A tiny bell chimed when they entered. 

Dean pointed to a chair near the door. “Sit.”

“Don't you want me to come with? You know that Castiel hasn't done anything wrong ri – “

Jack stopped talking and sat down when Dean gave him the death glare. He still had the look. 

He walked over to the desk, a clean white space with some papers spread out behind it and an open laptop. A multitude of pictures depicting tattoos from customers were hanging on the back wall, the only drop of color in the otherwise white place. “Hello? Anybody here?”

After a few moments, a man entered from a side door. “Yes, how can I help you?”

A clean, black T-shirt did everything to accentuate the blue eye color of the tattoo artist, that stood out in an almost supernatural way. One arm was covered in tattoos from wrist to elbow in what appeared to be black bird feathers. He looked at Dean, a small smile playing on his full lips and Dean found he had to tear his eyes off the other man.

Clearing his throat, he pointed at Jack behind him. “I'm Dean Winchester. I understand you tattooed Jack over there?”

Castiel looked at Jack, then nodded. “Yes, yesterday. You're keeping it clean?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Dean did a face. Jack never called him sir. 

Castiel continued. “Already back for the second tattoo?” His forehead wrinkled in thought. “We are closing soon though, so let's make an appointment instead.”

Blinking, Dean tried to process Castiel's words. “Hold up. What is this talk about a second tattoo? There wasn't supposed to be a _first_ tattoo. We're here for a refund.”

Castiel's smile fell. “A refund. I'm sorry but I don't do laser removal here. I can refer you to 'Ketchink'. He's talented, a personal friend of mine.” He paused. “Are you not pleased with the tattoo, Jack?”

Jack got up and walked over to Dean. “Very much, sir.”

“Cas is fine.” Castiel glanced over at Dean. “I see. I figure this comes as a surprise for you.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, you can say that.” 

“Well, you can go and look at the place. As I said, Dr. Ketch is a professional. With the shading and the size of the tattoo, some coloring, I think at least six sessions, probably more. Healing after each session is six to eight weeks. Five hundred per session but that's just a – “

“Five hundred?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. If Jack – “, after a quick look at Dean, he added “ – and you are ready to go through with it.”

Dean ran a hand over his face and looked at Jack. “Why couldn't you do what _I_ did at your age, huh?”

Jack scrunched his face in confusion. “Drink excessively, sneak out and go to rock concerts and start smoking?”

“Hey, I quit smoking after a few weeks. Was a good call to quit, increased my chances with the guys and gals. You better not be drinking, Jack. And that's not what I was talking about. Go hang out at the library. Paint tiny little knights, elves and trolls. Or be more like your uncle Sam was in your age... go sign up for a math-competition or I don't know, hang out at Barnes and Nobles.”

“I'm sorry for interrupting that fascinating conversation, but have you seen the tattoo?”

Dean narrowed his eyes. He was not sure if Castiel was mocking him, but he looked sincere. And hot. That was beside the point, but Dean couldn't help but notice things like that. Attractive people, hidden tattoos and wayward kids.

“Of course, I've seen it!” Dean grabbed Jack's underarm. “It's a tree. And some numbers.” He pulled the arm up, revealing Jack's tattoo.

“One of my best works.”

Jack smiled. “It is.”

“Yeah, well it's going. Gone, quicker than Anna dumping Hans.” Dean was resolute. 

“Actually it took a while for Anna to realize that Hans was manipulating her,” Jack explained.

“That's not the – “ Dean stopped as he looked at the tattoo, really looked at it. A fir tree was illuminated by a huge moon behind it and the point of a compass could be seen, the south arrow going straight through the tree. Coordinates surrounded the fir, like a halo.

”A fir tree because it's a bad pun.” Jack grinned. “And the coordinates are for 'First Home Forever', you know the place where you – “

Dean had a heavy lump in his throat. “ – adopted you from.”

Jack nodded. “I know it's kind of cheesy but I liked the _Fir_st Home to be in the design. You know... fir, the tree.”

Clearing his throat, Dean looked at Jack who had a smile on his face. “And the, um.. compass?”

Jack looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “You've always been that person I look up to, the one that helps me and guides me when I need it. Even when I adamantly say it isn't so. I just wanted to... have a reminder of everything you've done for me.”

A thousand thoughts were churning in Dean's head and anger quickly dissipated in favor of love and gratitude. He hadn't done much right in life, but raising Jack had been one of those things. “Well... when you put it like that. What you have in mind for the, uh, second tattoo?”

“May I?” Cas interrupted them, sliding over a sketch on the desk.

Dean looked at it. A stylized 'W' with a feather singling down, and it was so realistically done that it felt like Dean could pluck the feather of the paper. 

“You did this?” Dean asked Cas.

Cas nodded. “Yeah, with input from Jack of course. He's the one that's gonna have it on his body but the art is all me.”

Dean could see Cas up close now, as he was leaning on the desk. His dark hair was disheveled, practically inviting him to run his fingers through it. Arms that were thick and by the sight of those pants, he filled them up good. The art was most definitely all him. “When do you have time for a second appointment?”

“Really?” Jack's excitement was palpable.

“Yes, really. But you're still grounded.” Some of Jack's enthusiasm faded but he still leaned in to hug Dean. “Thanks, dad.”

“Mm.”

“I have a slot open in one week's time. Would that work for you?”

Dean nodded as he added the date on his phone. “Yeah. And you'll be in charge of the drilling?”

Cas quirked an eyebrow at that, his eyes going over Dean's face as if he was searching for something. “I'm always in charge of the drilling.”

“Dad. Can you be more embarrassing?!”

Sudden heat colored his cheeks as Dean registered what Jack was implying. He looked at Cas, horror on his face. “I wasn't... “

Cas' face was impassive as he turned to grab a tube of cream and when he faced Dean again, the corner of his mouth was twitching. “ Jack, here's some more cream. Still three to four times a day. The crust will itch, do not scratch it.”

“Heard that, Jack? No scratching.” Dean took the cream from Cas.

”Some itches are worth scratching.” Cas' voice was all business but he was looking at Dean with a smirk on his face.

Dean was not sure if the words Cas had said were full of intent or if his mind was spinning him tales. He pushed the tube into his pocket. “OK. See you next week.”

“Of course. Bye, Dean.”

As Dean and Jack walked back to the car, Jack looked at Dean. He even dared a smile. 

“You want a pizza?”

“Sure!”

Dean opened the driver's door and made a gesture to Jack. “Don't even think about it. You're still sitting in the back. Any topping you like on the pizza. We can go to that place you like with the extra thin crusts.”

Jack 's face lit up. “Awesome. They have the good sauce too.”

“Consider this a last meal. You won't be seeing the outside world for two weeks.”

“Two weeks? But you liked the tattoos?”

Turning the key, Dean looked back at Jack. “I did. Still do. You still lied though. And your ass is paying for the pizza.”


	26. Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas walks on a road alone, after leaving the Bunker and Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's Suptober challenge ties into this Thursday's episode "The Rupture" and is a 15x03 coda.
> 
> This episode gutted me, the pain was too much! (With that said, I LOVED this episode. The things this sets up) I'm practically vibrating with excitement. Still painful though. Here you go. I don't know if this is any less painful. Lol.

_Why is that something always seem to be you?_

Cas clenches his jaws at the memory of Dean's words, determined to keep going. Not that he really has anywhere to go. Dean will be fine, he has Sam and together they will go through this.

He thinks of Sam then, and his pain. He thinks about Rowena's sacrifice. They have lost so much, throughout all these years. Fighting apocalypses, fighting monsters, fighting among themselves.

Cas looks up at the night sky. He is surprised that the stars are still there. That God hasn't snuffed them out in his fury, just like he'd killed Jack with a snap of his fingers. They have lost so much, and Cas has lost himself and now he has lost Dean too. He wishes that he had been wrong but there is this small, ugly voice in his head that whispers to him. _Belphegor was right. You were right all along. They don't care about you. Dean..._

The wind is cold and it seeps into his trenchcoat. Once upon a time, the cold wouldn't have bothered him, and even if it's uncomfortable there is another cold that takes precedence. He wraps the trench coat around himself.

An image of Jack, no, not Jack, that _abomination_, flashes inside his head and Cas wishes that he had more memories of Jack. Jack who he came to love and in every way was his son. Memories of him smiling, of them together, all of them together. Happy.

Jack's body with those empty spaces for eyes. Cas blinks and the horrifying image is gone.

He walks on the sidewalk, gravel crunching beneath his shoes. He should be worried about the state of his powers but he finds that he's not. It's not like there is an abundance of angels to confide in, not that he had that kind of relationship with them anyway. 

God... God is a dick.

His lips pull up in a smile but it doesn't reach his eyes, nor his heart. His Father is a dick and it makes him think of Dean, and his heart clenches in pain. There is anger there too.

He has lost much too. Mary was not his mother no, and Cas can only imagine what it must have felt for Dean to lose her a second time but she was someone he cared about. And she was important to Dean. Jack. Cas pushes the thought away. 

If he dares to think too deeply about it, he will stop right on this road to nowhere and weep.

He wishes that he went to Sam one last time before his departure. 

He thinks that he's glad that he didn't go to Sam. That way, the younger brother didn't have to see him leave. A small pain he spared Sam among all the other pains. He thinks that he's lying to himself. Cas feared that Sam would look at him the same way, and declare that he was unwanted too. 

But it was only Dean's words that cut so deeply. Only Dean's rejection that hurt. 

Cas wishes that he can nurse this anger towards Dean, keep it close but it dissipates all too soon. In its wake is an empty, hollow emotion. He wishes that he has the energy to dissect it.

He puts one foot in front of the other and wishes for something. He's not quite sure what.


	27. Villains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is a superhero. Cas is a superhero but of the more villainous kind. Dean and Cas know of each other and soon they'll both find out that they also know Charlie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece was inspired by a prompt from Facebook's 'Destiel Forever' group.
> 
> Thank you for reading, giving kudos and commenting. It means a lot. =D

“It's really good to see you again, Charlie. Feels like we haven't talked in ages.” Dean scoped up some meat sauce and poured it over his spaghetti. Inhaling the scent of garlic, he smiled. “This smells delicious. I got to admit, it's not often I have time to eat meals from scratch.”

Charlie grabbed the salt and frowned slightly. “Didn't realize it was that busy being a volunteer. Or is it the art that is taking up all your time?”

“I do get into a certain headspace when I paint so sure?”

Laughing, Charlie handed Dean a beer. “So if it isn't the art, then it's all those horrible children feeding off your energy at the library? You ready to throw in the towel?”

Shaking his head, he took a swipe of beer. “What can I say, I'm an artist, sensitive heart and all that. And I like reading for the kids. They love all the voices I do and it feels like I'm doing something useful but to be honest, things have been kind of busy with the family business.”

“Is John still on you about taking over?”

Dean shoved some more food in his mouth to avoid the question but as he was taking another sip of his beer, he couldn't pretend to not see Charlie's friendly but incessant look. Wiping some beer of his lips he shrugged. “Yeah, he is. I don't get it. Why can't Sam take over? I didn't even want to be a dentist but Sam gets all giddy talking about dentures and cavities.”

“Have you told your father this?”

Dean scoffed. “You don't tell John anything. Besides, as long as I get to do my side job, I'm good.” What neither John nor Charlie knew was that Dean 's side job was not being an artist but a superhero. He was the protector of the city. Dean was the superhero known as The Hunter. He'd never figured out why the people decided that was a good name but he was grateful it wasn't something ridiculous like the 

“He's still calling your paintings side jobs?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, but he doesn't know that they sell for a lot of money. Who doesn't want a painting from the mysterious Impala?” Dean still chuckled about the huge debate among his more hardcore fans of whether he meant the car or the animal. Just to confuse them further, he painted the animal now and then, although it stood out from his usual work.

A knock at the door interrupted them. 

Charlie lit up. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. My friend is coming over, it'll be quick. Saw him at retirement night at the library. Promised to give him some of my notes.”

Shrugging, Dean twirled some more pasta on his fork.

“Thank you for doing this, Ms. Bradbury.” Dean dropped his fork at the sound of that voice. What the fuck was Castiel doing here?

“I'll be back in a sec, just getting the notes.” 

Charlie went to another room and Dean felt the hair at the back of his neck rise.

“Dean? I didn't expect to see you here.” Cas' voice was smooth, with that lilt to his voice that Dean could pick up from a choir of a thousand voices. Angling his chair so he could see Cas better proved unnecessary since Cas promptly took a seat opposite of Dean.

“Smells delicious, Charlie!” Cas called out.

Dean glared and dropped his hands into his lap. That way, he knew where he had them. For good measure, he clenched them into fists. That way he could stop himself from strangling Cas, but on the other hand, it was very tempting and easy to punch him in the face. 

“What the hell, Cas? I can't believe you show up here after that fucking stunt you pulled last week?”Dean's voice was an angry whisper.

“How would I know that man was in the way? Besides, I did stop the bank robbers.”

Dean clenched his jaw. Castiel did that a lot, made him feel like he was a tight string about to snap. “You took the fucking money.”

Castiel reached across the table and grabbed Dean's beer. Taking a sip, he smiled. “I gave it to charity.”

“You're not charity, Cas.”

Charlie came back, oblivious to the conversation. “Here you go, Castiel.” She handed the papers over. “Oh, I'm sorry. Do you want to join us? I made enough spaghetti to feed a battalion.” She paused. “Oh, it's obvious I haven't read any etiquette guides. Dean, Castiel. Castiel, this is Dean. My friend since forever.”

“Yeah, hi. I think – ” Dean began but Cas interrupted him.

“Thank you, I haven't had the opportunity to eat yet.” Castiel smiled and eased out of his trench coat, hanging it over the chair.

They ate in silence. It was chosen on Dean's part but he might have pushed it too far when he noticed that Charlie was looking at him oddly. 

He cleared his throat. Dean could be the bigger man and at least pretend to be civil. “So, how do you know Charlie?” He looked at Cas, staring into those blue eyes. Not even that stupid mask he wore could conceal the intensity of that color. Dean was surprised that no one had found out about Cas' identity yet.

“I volunteer at the library when they have computer retirement advanced program. It's on Thursdays.”

Dean chuckled. They called the program 'CRAP'? Maybe it was some dry librarian joke. “Uh-huh. You volunteering?” He ignored Charlie's raised eyebrow.

Cas glared. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

Dean clicked his tongue. “Nothing, nothing at all. I'm just saying that it's nice to hear you care about some people. I guess being among the blind, hearing impaired and on the brink of dementia does wonders for you. Allows you to be you fully.”

“How is your stomach, Dean?” Cas' voice was not cold but he spoke curtly, a satisfied smile on his lips.

“It's fine. Just took an Advil. Nothing really. Felt more like a slight inconvenience than anything painful. I guess the aim was off?”

Charlie blinked. “Oh, you're hurt, Dean? And I thought you didn't know each other?” She offered Dean some garlic bread. Dean thought about eating some just to spite Cas. See what he had to say when he felt that garlic breath all over his face and stupid mask.

“We don't.” Cas smiled. “But he does seem intriguing, your friend. We talked while you were gone. Thanks for the notes. I'm sure this will help the elderly greatly.”

Dean rolled his eyes. The elderly.“We don't know each other.” He angled his body so he was facing Charlie more than Cas. “And the stomach is nothing. You know how dentistry is... People get scared. Some panic. Maybe some teenager thought that I was a rock and they a rhino during a wisdom tooth extraction.”

“The teenager was not wrong,” Cas smirked.

“Didn't realize dentistry could be so dangerous. You're practically the Deadpool of dentistry.” Charlie cut in. 

“Yeah, I don't know about that. I'm just a dentist.”

Cas interjected. “Ah, you're far from 'just', Dean.”

“Look who's speaking.” Dean tempered his voice. He could tell Cas was getting the better of him and he didn't want to make Charlie more suspicious than she already was. “So please, continue. What is it that you do? How you're so just?”

“I didn't realize you were so concerned with muscles Dean, but if you ever feel tense. Come to me. I'll give you a discount.”

“What?”

“That's what I do. I'm a massage therapist. I find kinks in muscles and I eradicate them. You seem very tense by how your jaw is clenched. And your posture.”

His posture? Really, fuck him.

“Um... “ Charlie started. Both Dean and Cas stopped talking as if realizing that she was in the room too. Cas got up suddenly, holding the notes in his hands. “I need to go. I have another obligation and I'd hate to be late. Thanks for the notes, Charlie. Maybe I'll see you at the computer class sometimes.”

“Probably. Those computers are so ancient they still have inserts for Floppy-disks.”

Castiel hugged Charlie quickly and grabbed his trench coat. “It was great seeing you, Dean. Until we meet again. You know where to find me.”

Yes, Dean did. Skulking in dark allies, robbing a bank or destroying city parks. The door closed behind Cas as he exited Charlie's apartment.

Charlie started clearing away his plates. “He seems so lovely.”

“Yes, _seems_is the keyword.” 

Dean watched as Charlie washed away the last remnants of soap from the plate before putting it back. 

If only it was that easy to wash Castiel aka the Vengeful Angel, the pain in the ass villain, away from the Hunter's city and life.


	28. Make-up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another 15x03 coda. Cas-pov.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading. All my love, as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make-up
> 
> noun: make-up; noun: makeup; plural noun: make-ups; plural noun: makeups  
the composition or constitution of something.  
"ozone damages the cellular make-up of plants and trees"

Dean's words haunted Castiel.

Jack's death haunted him.

Sam's sorrow haunted him.

Chuck's actions haunted him.

The cold outside the bunker pierced through his trench coat and the darkness of the night was above him. The dark path, littered with gravel was below him. It seemed lately that he had trouble even remembering how it felt to be an angel of the Lord. But that was a lie. 

He remembered. Grace filling up his being. Hands that healed. A mind that was certain. A heart that was shielded. 

He'd almost forgotten.

Now. Grace was leaving his being empty. Did that mean that _he_ was empty? 

Some of the night's creatures were out, echoing their songs into a darkness where no one listened. Dean hadn't listened. And now Cas had to listen to his words. Over and over again.

To be an angel was to have purpose. Who was he if that purpose was stripped of him? Castiel pondered that question. Twirling with this familiar parable, he found that he didn't gain any new awareness.

He was a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. He had intention. Was it possible to direct his intention, his purpose to something else?

Cas stopped and found a patch of thick grass. Easing himself down on the ground, he sat there. He closed his eyes.

Hours later, his eyes were graced with darkness still. Some thoughts spoke louder in darkness. And silence. 

Cas was not Dean's. He was first and foremost his own. He loved Dean. As much as he could, but that love would not fill him up, just expand him. And how could he expand emptiness into something substantial?

Regret filled him as thoughts about Sam came to him. He'd just left without explaining himself. He'd be worried. And hurting over Rowena. Cas' sighs left his mouth in puffs of mist. Slowly, steadily.

It seemed his whole life had been an act of balancing impossibilities on top of each other.

Jack. It was hard to bring those thoughts to the forefront of his mind. He was a being of intentions, still, even with his grace waning and powers fading. The grief and regret he felt threatened to consume him. Not once, but twice had Jack been taken from them, from him. It was painful losing a son and losing a son twice. That was a sorrow he'd carry for eternity. 

Cas got up from the ground. The cold had settled in his limbs, turning them slow but he allowed anger to flare through his body, enough to chase away the worst of it. 

God was a monster. 

God was his Father.

God was dead. He just didn't know it yet.

Looking ahead, the road was empty and deserted. Looking back, the road seemed empty and deserted. Looking inside, his heart was empty and deserted. 

Cas glanced up at the multitude of stars again. They dotted the night sky, belying the fact that the distance from one star to the next was vast, almost incomprehensible to a human intellect. Yet, they shined surrounded by darkness, spreading light.

Cas would take the emptiness of his heart and fill it with light of his own making. In time.

Exhaling slowly, he made a decision.

As he walked his path, a flickering of a call came to him. A pure intention. A prayer. He knew that vibration of energy, that flickering of thought. He had put it back together after all.

Cas kept on walking.


	29. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas gets mixed up in a case of mistaken identity.
> 
> See endnotes for warnings.

Cas' shirt was drenched in sweat. The fabric was saturated to such a degree that Cas would have thought it impossible if he wasn't living it. He pulled at the bindings on his wrists but they didn't yield one inch. 

The door opened and Cas jerked. He wasn't sure if the surge of heat flooding his body was from fear or relief. Maybe both.

The man entering was unfamiliar to Cas. Not that he'd paid much attention to the first man he'd met. His mind had been preoccupied reeling from the fact that he was being kidnapped. At first, he had thought it was a joke. Who in the world would kidnap him? Being in tech-support would sometimes give Cas reason to raise his voice at a caller who was particularity irate but nothing that would give someone a reason to take him, tie him up and shove him into a car. All with the help of a not so gentle gun being pressed to his temple the whole time.

There had been questions, hard blows and throughout it all, Cas hadn't been able to give them what they wanted. His thoughts were scattered and if he wasn't so afraid, he'd been laughing hysterically.

“You still not talking I see? Well, the gloves are off. No more cuddling.” The man walked behind Cas and starting pulling out drawers.

There was an unmistakable sound as tools of some sort were laid down. Cas could hear the clattering as something landed on some kind of metal. Goosebumps bloomed all over his body that quickly turned into panicked warmth as the man walked around him. Grabbing a stool, he saw down in front of Cas.

“I'm Dean.” Nothing else was said. 

The man's green eyes looked at Cas, his gaze lingering until Cas felt it burn and he wanted to be away from that uncomfortable scrutiny. Pulling at the binds didn't really do much, but it gave Cas the illusion of fight. “Please. You haven't even told me what you want? Just tell me and I can help you. This is all a misunderstanding. I work as tech-support for the county schools, I've never – “

“Let's cut to the chase. Thumb or eye? Personally, I'd make you choose between thumb and finger, but Michael is impatient.” Dean shook his head as if Michael being impatient was the bigger bother between that and cutting something off. He brought up a knife, playing with it as he looked at Cas', a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Cas' brain was equal parts mesmerized and terrified. What the fuck was going on? “Please, please, wait! Please, hear me out.”

Dean chuckled suddenly. “'Let's cut to the chase.' Cut? You get it? Cause I'ma cut you.” He nodded to himself and then looked at Cas again. “I will. So. Pick your poison.” 

He hadn't stopped playing with the knife and it was as if Cas' attention on the knife had blocked his mind from fully absorbing the words Dean was saying. “I- I'm tech support. I have no reason to get kidnapped and t-t-t – “

“Shh.” Dean's finger gently pressed on Cas' mouth and Cas clamped his mouth shut. His eyes were on Dean's, fearing that if he lost track of them, something terrible would happen. 

Fingers speared through Cas' hair and nausea washed over him. He was going to throw up. 

Dean yanked hard, tilting his head back. “Don't move, Jimmy.” 

From the corner of his eye, Cas saw the knife. A gentle press from the tip of the blade just below his eye and his heart thrummed in his ears. Sudden warmth filled his crotch, pooling down his legs as he emptied his bladder. 

“Don't worry about the pee. Happens to the best of us.” Dean grinned. “Mm, you do have pretty eyes. Shame to take such a beauty but I will if you don't choose. Choose.”Dean pressed just a fraction more on his skin and then leaned in, whispering in his ear. “Friendly hint. Go for the thumb.”

“I'm... Cas.” It was a whisper and Cas prayed Dean could hear him.

“And that wasn't a friendly hint.” Dean eased off of Cas' hair and pulled away the knife. 

Cas thought he was going to pass out from sheer gratefulness. “Jimmy.” Cas' gaze flickered from Dean's eyes that showed warmth to the door behind Dean and then back again to his face. None of that crazy, murdering psycho gaze you always read about in books; no, Dean looked like he was talking about chopping tomatoes and not thumbs. He's... he's my twin brother. Identical.”

The sudden slap to his face was as shocking as Dean's laughter. “Oh, shut up. You think bullshit like that is gonna stop me, save you? You don't deserve to be saved.”

The knife was back near Cas' eye, quicker than he could blink. “My pocket! My back pocket, there's a picture. Please.” Cas started sobbing.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Alright, sugar. I'll humor you. Lift your ass up.”

Cas lifted his behind up as much as he could as Dean's hand went down his pocket.

Fishing up the photo, Dean unfolded it. His eyes flickered back and forth from the photo to Cas. Nodding slightly, he smiled. “Well, I'll be damned. There are two of you.”

With Dean's words, Cas' felt himself deflate, closing his eyes in relief. He was utterly exhausted, from fear and confusion, from lack of sleep and pain, but he'd proven his point. This was all a misunderstanding. He was good. Everything was good.

“There is a problem though.” Dean's voice was cold.

Cas startled, his eyes flashing open.

“You're identical. So you could as well be lying and pretending to be Cas, Jimmy? No? So, I'm sorry. Pick your poison. Last chance, angel, or I'll take both eye and thumb.”

Cas looked at Dean, his whole frame trembling. “Eye,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small note that this piece contains threats of violence, torture, etc. Knives are involved. Oh, kidnapping too.


	30. Kansas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana and Suz find out that they are definitely IN Kansas when they realize, to their great shook, that Supernatural is very much real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this meta-commentary, crack treated seriously drabble xD
> 
> A day late but that's things when you're in the middle of moving. I hope you enjoy this... thing I've created. Kind of surprised it went this way, when I drew a complete blank for this prompt earlier. As always I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you for reading, I appreciate every comment and kudos.
> 
> BabysNotaProp... this is for you.

The weird glimmer of light stops shimmering and as Suz and Ana try to get their bearings, they hear a very familiar voice come to them, a voice that should have been impossible.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here?” They would recognize that gruff, angry bear voice anywhere.

Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire is pointing his gun at them. Watching the show Supernatural quite obsessively, they know he has seen some shit and that two women materializing right in front of him would be taken in stride. He could also shot them dead. 

They would die happy. Ana grabs Suz's arm and whispers to her friend. “Oh, my fucking God. Is this real? Do you see this?” She tries to keep her voice down but the excitement has her in a grip. “Was there something, something in that drink, Suz. Are we dreaming? Is this a mass hallucination? We're not in Kansas anymore.”

Suz, a slightly shorter woman with dangerous curves, if she could say so herself, glares at Ana. “We kind of are in Kansas, but I get your point. And course we're not dreaming, don't you remember, we did that reading? From the book – 

“Oh, my God. Do you think it really wo – “

Dean Winchester clears his throat and the women turn their attention to him again. “Hi. Sorry for interrupting your tea-party but if you don't tell me what's going with your Sailor-Moon entrance, you'll be in a world of trouble.”

Ana sees Dean's lips moving but she's busy admiring him. She knows that she should be paying attention but there is still a part of her brain – a rather substantial part – that refuses to believe what's happening is real. She glances over at Suz, who is caressing the wall. “Suz, what are you doing?”

“This wall is really soft. I always thought that it would be coarser in texture but no, it's smooth.” Suz turns towards Ana and then looks back at Dean. “He's fine. And he's _fine_. I mean, this is my dream. It's not like he's going anywhere.”

“Why is it _your_dream? I could be the one that's dreaming and you're entering my dream world. There is only one way to settle this,” Ana proclaims. “Look at me.”

Suz turns and Ana slaps her.

“What the fuck, Ana?!”

Ana makes a face. “I guess that didn't work.”

Rubbing her cheek, Suz glares at Ana. “No, it didn't work. We're not dreaming. I'm telling you – “

“Alright, you two. Shut up.” Dean cocks his gun, catching the attention of both women. One of you better start making some sense right now.” 

“Wait, wait, don't shot! Fuck, don't shot us!” Ana shouts. “Give him some proof.”

Suz's voice raises in panic as she looks at Dean. His eyebrows are drawn down in anger and suspicion, and a face that she would have thought handsome – hell, hot even – isn't much that, when she knows he's ready to put a bullet through her. A bullet that she suspects would be the real deal. “You like Led Zeppelin.”

Despite the precarious situation, Ana can't help but roll her eyes. “Really, Suz? Led Zeppelin? Of all the things you could have said? How about 'Sorry, your dad imparted years of trauma on you'”, Ana looks at Dean, and her face softens as she mouths, “'We're _really_ sorry', or how about 'That werepire name, we dig it too', or 'Angels are dicks, well except Cas of course, especially that Metatron guy.”

“I thought we'd ease himself and us into this.”

Ana nods. “You're right, baby steps.”

Dean takes a step forward, growling. “No fucking baby steps. I want all the steps, the whole nine yards of it. Dig deep, around, and start talking. Now.”

Suz pipes up. “I really need to use the bathroom first.”

Dean opens his mouth and promptly closes it. After a few beats of silence, he lowers the gun. “Fine. Follow me.”

They're sitting in the war room, or rather Ana and Suz are sitting down, while Dean paces back and forth. His green flannel shirt is open, revealing a simple, black T-shirt underneath. He looks at them again and shakes his head. 

Suz raises her hand. 

Dean sighs. “Yes?”

“Uh, can I have a band-aid or something. This kind of stings.” She looks down at the trail in her arm, where Dean cut her with a silver blade. 

Ana leans in towards Suz, inspecting the wound. “Mm, he cut you deep.”

“I know, you'd think after so many times, he'd get a better sense of cutting.”

Ana nods, her long dark hair swaying. “I don't even get why the cut has to be so long, just a little flick of the wrist and it's a done deal.”

“Me neither!” Suz watches Dean, as he paces. “Why do you have to cut so deep?”

Dean shakes his head. “I swear, when Sam and Cas get here...” He walks over to a small metal cabinet on the wall, grabbing some band-aid. Tossing it towards the women, Suz catches the band-aid. 

After applying the thin, plastic stripe on her wound, Suz watches Dean carefully. “So...” She bites her lips and glances over at Ana, who is nodding encouragingly. “You believe us?”

Dean stops ins his tracks, glares at them, murder in his eyes but both Ana and Suz notice how he swallows, the imperceptible nod. 

“He does,” they say at the same time. 

“Will you stop that? You don't know me.”

Ana looks down. “Sorry, it's really hard not to. We look at you all the time.”

“All the time”, Suz interjects. “But now that you know, maybe you can help us get home?”

Dean stops in his tracks, sighs and walks over to the table, slumping down in a chair. “We'll try. I don't know the half of it. I saw the weird shimmer you came from. It didn't look like a normal rift, one of those that Jack opened. Sam will be here in a minute, maybe he knows more.”

Suz and Ana look at each other, excitement on their faces. “Now we kind of know where we at,” Suz whispers to Ana. 

A thoughtful expression goes over Ana's face. “Yeah, I'd like more details so we can pinpoint exactly where we... are, but at least Chuck hasn't done his... thing.”

“Stop whispering.” 

“Sorry. We're still trying to adjust... to everything.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He looks at Suz first, almost scrutinizing her, before he moves on to Ana, giving her the same in-depth examination. He shakes his head, mutters something under his breath and Suz is pretty sure she can hear a lot of 'fucks' in there, even a 'pain in the ass.'

She knows Dean doesn't mean it, but being a Dean girl for years, has led to some weird reactions just watching the show and his eyes on her now, cause an explosion of fire to rush through her. She unzips her hoodie, just to get a small amount of relief when she notices Dean stiffen.

He gets up from his chair, his jaws set and looms like a shadow over Ana. Grabbing the zipper of her hoodie, he pulls down, only to drop it like it burned him. Grabbing Ana and Suz, he hauls them up.

Dean promptly leads them to his room. It's recognizable, with the bed that looks larger in life though, then on screen, a chair and a shelf that goes corner to corner above the wall. It's littered with little things, a painting, just one gun, five books, a cross that stands up against the brick wall and other knick-knacks that Dean has collected during the years and numerous hunts. 

He closes the door. “Take off your shirts.”

Ana quirks an eyebrow in surprise. “What? No!”

Dean clicks his tongue in expiration. “Calm down. You've watched the 'show' for fifteen fucking years. I'm not a perv. I just need you to get rid of that shirt.”

“No shaming or anything, but I, we, _know_ Dean. About the hentai, tentacles and other celestial desires you have – “

“You should see the things I – “ 

Suz doesn't have time to speak further before Dean interrupts them. “Alright, lower your voices. You're still changing.” Dean opens a dresser and sighs in frustration. “Of all the days and hours, Cas, you did laundry, now, today?” Dean grabs a shirt. “I have one shirt that is clean and one that's sort of.”

He tosses the clean shirt, a blue, and reddish flannel shirt to Suz and starts unbuttoning the green flannel shirt he's wearing. When he's done, he eases out of it, ready to hand it over to Ana but stops when he notices their expression. “So help me, what is it now?”

Suz's voice is an awed whisper. “Wow. Look at all that skin.”

Ana helpfully adds, “Wow, he's practically naked. Such perfection.”

Dean narrows his eyes as he hands the shirts over. “I'm in my undershirt. Let me guess, there were not many scenes – “ He rubbed a hand over his face. “I need to get you two home, asap, before Chuck himself decides to send you home or you'll be the death of me. Not a word about... celestial fucking desires. Alright?”

Suz has already turned, bringing the shirt to her nose. She inhales deeply.

Ana looks at Suz, her face scrunched up in confusion. “What the fuck, Suz?”

“It's 'what the fuck' to the both of you,” Dean adds.

Suz and Ana are in the library pretending to read when Dean comes back, Sam and Cas walking behind them. They try to reign in their excitement but it's hard being a fangirl. They eat excitement for breakfast and what's currently happening in their lives can only be described as someone pushing a huge shovel of excitement down their throats rather than the normal teaspoon.

“I'm dying!” Ana exclaims. 

“I know,” Suz says as she pats Ana's arm. 

“What?” Dean says as he sits down at the table with them. “Wait, I don't wanna know.”

“It's Cas!” She puts her hand over her heart. “He's so gorgeous, how can you all walk around like this is normal?”

Suz smiles. “Forgive her, she's excited. She really likes Cas.”

Ana shrugs, “I do. I really do. Don't get me wrong, I dig you too Sam. You're Sam fucking Winchester but Cas. We don't call you the 'hottest angel in the garrison' for no reason.” 

Cas looks at Ana with a strange expression on his face. “I'm 'hot?'”

Ana nods seriously. “The fandom agrees. Very.”

As Cas and Sam sit down, Ana and Suz can all see that they have questions. Soon, they wish they'd both have a pitcher of water and a bulletproof shield with the number of questions raining over them.

An amused smile plays over Sam's lips as they finish their tale. He leans back in his chair. “Wait, so you watched our lives for fourteen years and still, even after everything, you decided to try a witch spell?”

“My point exactly. Did you not learn fucking nothing?”

Suz objected. “Hey, in our world magic is considered just tales that people can read about in books or watch on TV. It's not real. So forgive me if I didn't take it deadly seriously.”

“Dean, maybe they can help us?” Sam's voice has an edge of excitement to it.

Cas nods in agreement. “It's not close to the realm of prophecies but any insight we can gain in how to help Jack would be good. Since it seems this 'show' and our world has some correlation.

Dean crosses his arms. “Fine.”

Ana flashed a smile towards the Winchesters and Cas before leaning in close to Suz. “What the hell are we gonna tell them? We can't tell them too much, maybe not anything. Them knowing can change the future of what they're supposed to go through...”

“Maybe we can just give them some encouragement?”

“Like what? Have you seen this show? By this timeline, Moriah, will soon happen, hell, not even Mary has ha – “

“Well?” Dean interrupts their musings, irritation in his voice.

Suz looks at her friend, then back to the guys she knows as Team Free Will. “It's... complicated.”

“What's so complicated?” Dean's voice is raised. “You know all of these things about me, things even I didn't know that I knew about me. Just press forward on the goddamn DVD.”

A moment of panic washes over Suz's face but Ana jumps in.

“We can't!”

“What do you mean 'you can't?” Dean tries to lower his voice, be calm and all, but still, it comes out as a growl.

“Um... the DVD for the season isn't out yet.”

Dean slams his hands so hard on the table that both Ana and Suz jump, startled by the sudden sound. “Fucking hell! What do you mean 'the next season' isn't out yet? Jesus fucking Christ!”

Sam flashes them an apologetic smile before whispering harshly to Dean. “They're having it hard enough without you trying to scare them. They're trying to help us. And we need to help them get home”

“They should try harder.” He glances back at the women, expelling air harshly from his lungs.“I guess you're right. ET needs to phone home. Let's hope someone is at the other end.”

Suz wants to point out that she can still hear them, but decides that the wisest option is to keep her mouth shut. “So you'll help us.”

“We'll help you,” Cas says. “You came here by accident and it's strange to learn that we're a TV-show in your world, but that doesn't negate your need.”

Ana nods, all the while getting lost in Cas' eyes. They were so blue it was ridiculous! How could Dean not have jumped him twice over? A pang of pain washes over her heart. She knows. She just hopes they will resolve it at the end. She could hardly say that narratively speaking it looks like they'd be fine in the end. They'd just have to go through more pain and walking away from each other first.

“Thank you, guys.”

Sam smiles at them. “Let's talk about something else, and then maybe some food for our guests. So, how did you meet? Childhood friends?”

Another flush of panic washes over them. Suz wishes they would have planed this but then has to stop the giggle threatening to erupt from her throat. This was not her plotting out another story, and laying out plans. This had just happened! Plans were out the window, they were so far out, that they were out in the atmosphere.

Ana can see that Suz is coming up blank and chances a glance at Dean. His eyes are shooting tiny paper planes attached with the message “Shh”, as well as daggers at her. Clearing her throat, Ana utters the first thing that comes to mind. “Eh, we are really into transformative works of fiction... especially a large sub-genre of that... work.”

Sam blinks, clearly unsure of what the answer really means.

“I know!” Suz cries out as distraction but also because a sudden idea has come to her.. “We should try and call Dabb, he knows the story even if the season isn't out yet. He will know.” Her voice trailed off into uncertainty at the end,

Cas tilts his head slightly and Ana sighs. Those two idiots would be the death of her. Perhaps, quite literally. “Who is this demon Dabb?”

Ana frowns chewing on her lip. She grabs onto Suz's arms and smiles at the lovable trio. “One sec, we need a minute. Girl talk.”

“What now?” Suz asks close to Ana's ear. 

“How much should we tell them? Dean is already having apoplexy over there.”

Suz shrugs.”I don't know. It's not certain he's out there. And it looks like it's their world, well the _show_ but – “

“ – but what if it isn't? Might be Dabb doesn't even exist here, or any writer at all or maybe there are changes to the script. Maybe there isn't a script. This maybe is the real deal, that just happens to follow the show we know really well, but with slight unknown divergences.” All the thoughts about versions of Supernatural, divergent timelines and what was real and possibly not was causing Ana to develop a slight headache.

“Well, the cat is out of the bag now. I say we tell them about our theories. And go from there.”

They both nod, happy that they've finally come to some sort of conclusion.

“Is this Dabb a demon? Doesn't sound like an angel name, maybe some kind of God? You think he can help us? Sam's voice is laced with questions. 

Suz looks at him. It's a marvel that he's standing there, towering over her in that trademark Winchester flannel, taking it all in strides. They'd had too, and all because Chuck was a fucking dick hack-ass writer. Not that she nor Ana plans to tell them that. That was in the future and she doesn't want to cause some cosmic events or disturbances in their world. She'd watched 'Back to the Future' after all. She exhales, clears her throat. Here goes all or nothing. “Dabb is the showrunner of the um... show. Supernatural.

At that moment, Jack walks in. “What show are we talking about? And who are you?”

Dean is having none of it. “Here we go with the damn show again. We are not a show, we are us and this is our lives. Cockface Chuck knows it and you should know it!”

Ana and Suz are stunned to silence. 

Cas and Sam glance at Dean, obviously uncomfortable at Dean's outbreak. 

“Wow. I've never heard you use a curse like that,” Ana interjects.

“Shut up. I always use it. You don't know me.” 

Suz sighs. “You're right, guys. This is your lives... it's just a lot to take in for all of us.”

Sam pats Suz reassuringly. “It's OK. We'll figure... something out.”

Jack had been listening in on the conversation quietly. “So you're from another dimension where – we are a...show?”

Suz nods. “It's difficult to explain. But yeah. And we're here because – “

“ – you got sucked in by some portal book, a weird spell, or some goddamn leprechauns magic boot. It's always something.” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don't know about you but I could use some dinner right about now. 

Ana, whose been sitting relatively quiet waves her hand. “Guys, shh. I'm trying to remember if Dabb mentioned anything useful during the convention videos.”

Dean lets his hand fall from his face, his hazel eyes piercing. “Co-convention videos? I need coffee with booze, Cas.” He gets up from his chair and as he's walking towards the kitchen, they can hear him mutter. “I need coffee with booze. Scratch that, I need_booze_ with coffee.”

Cas gets up. “I'll go with him.”

Sam nods. “That's a good idea.” He looks at Ana and Suz. “Don't worry. We'll get you home. The Men of Letters have books on almost anything you can think of. You'll be alright. How about I show you your rooms where you can sleep? Sound good?”

Ana and Suz nod, suddenly feeling tired and heavy in their limbs from all that had transpired that day. “Thank you, Sam,” Suz says softly.

The smell lingers in the room, the closed-off kind of scent that speaks of beds never made, drawers never opened and dust never removed.

“Sorry for the um, mess, but this is the only room that has a single shower close by and I figured you might need some space.” 

“It's fine, Sam. Thank you.” She looks at him, as a weird feeling comes over her. He looks like Jared but she can tell it isn't. He is all hard edges and while she can see the kindness in his eyes, he isn't soft. There is nothing soft about Sam Winchester, even if the words he speaks can be filled with kindness and compassion.

Sam just nods and shuts the door behind them.

Ana flops down on the bed. “God, what an evening. I could sleep for a week.”

“I can't believe how Sam stands it. The tension on the screen was one thing, but Jesus, just being close to Dean and Cas is making me want to hurl myself off a cliff to escape the unresolved sexual tension. It's not even sexual anymore, just a wall of tension that makes my jaw hurt.” Suz looks through the drawers near a small bedside table. “No soap, no shampoo. Nothing. I guess we'll have to ask them for some.”

“Well, Dean and Cas are nothing if not stubborn. Do you think that we should....say something? I mean judging by Dean's reactions he knows about Destiel at least. Maybe we can nudge them along just a bit?” Ana sits up in bed. “But we might be um... messing with things that in this world will be resolved on its own.”

“Cas made Dean coffee. I can't!”

Ana smiles. “I know. I wish we could just mash their stupid heads together. 'Kiss you fools!'” She lowers her voice, a flicker of sadness over her face. “I just hope that this is another version, you know. With what we know of season fifteen, things will be hard.”

Suz nods in agreement. “Mm, tell me about it. Sure, with what happens with everything, we can hope that it's a setup for growth from both Dean and Cas' side. And Sam's connection with Chuck.”

“It will end happily! The signs are all there. For all of them. I just wanted to hug Jack...” After a few seconds, Ana adds. “I hope we can get back home. What if we meet our versions from here? And we implode and die or get amnesia, or disappear in a cloud of mist?”

Suz rubs a hand over her face. “It's too early to think about that. I'm sure they'll find a way to helps us. Maybe Jack can listen in, open a rift and send us back home.”

“If he's... stable. We forgot to ask if he has a snake. God, this is so surreal.” Ana sighs. “They are idiots, Suz, really. Did you see Cas? If I was Dean I'd jump on him instantly and rip that trench coat off his stupidly hot body.”

“Yeah, but Dean doesn't think he is worthy, you know. There is so much they don't know about each other, that we know. Maybe we can lock them up together.”

Suz laughs. “Maybe we can nudge Dean along, cause Cas did say he loved Dean in season twelve.”

“Yes, but we need to make sure we can find a way home. We are just guessing how the rules work here if there even are any. Maybe one day here is a decade back home, but I'd rather not wait and find out. But with that said, I'd love for those two idiots to get their shit together.”

“Same girl, same! It's been – “

“ – Eighty-four fucking years!”

“ – Eighty-four fucking years!”

“ – Eighty0four fucking years!”

Ana and Suz jump up as Sam bursts through the door. “Yes! Thank you.” He stops suddenly, realizing what he's done. “Um... hi. I was just walking past the door and I heard you talk... about my brother and Cas.”

They both look at each other, uncertain of what to say. 

“It's fine.” Sam plops down on the bed. “I'm just happy I can talk to _someone_. The looks, and gazes, the tensions and lingering touches that they think no one notices. They truly are idiots.” He grins. “But I do love them both.”

“They, _you_, are all loved in our world. Some are idiots but we ignore them.” Suz frowns at the last statement.

“Yeah, it's like those books you found years ago. The Winchester' gospels.”

Sam's expression changes. “Oh, ew... No.”

It feels awkward to be talking this earnestly with Sam about his brother and friend. They are real, and not just characters in a show in this world.

“Sam?”

“Yes, Ana?”

“You're really tall...” 

Sam barks out a laugh. “Well, thank you. I am.”

Ana smiles, but it fades. “I know you've seen your fair share of crap. You've dealt with ghosts, demons, you've... lost people. But know that your courage and resilience, your belief that things will get better, your attitude of never giving up, in our world, it gives thousands of people hope.”

Sam is quiet, seemingly moved. A small smile tugs at his lips. “It's good that we make some difference in the world, in any world.”

“You really do. Team free will 2.0 rocks.”

Sam smiles at that.

Ana and Suz are on their way to room 77, where apparently there are a ton of linens, and bedding when they hear muted voices from a room next to it. They stop and realize that it's Dean and Cas' voices.

Silently, they sneak in closer and peer through a crack in the door. Their view is limited but they can see Dean and Cas sitting near a table. Cas' face is visible but they can only see Dean's profile, strong jaw, and thick hair. He's licking his lips nervously and moves slightly.

That's when they notice the shirts on the table. It's their Destiel shirts. 

Shit was about to go down.

“So, you made them take this off cause you didn't want me to see them?” Cas' eyes were trained on Dean, his voice careful.

Dean swallows, his eyes flickering down. “Look... Cas. It's not like that. I just didn't want to... make you uncomfortable. I didn't...”

There is a small sound as Cas shifts on his stool. “You presume I would be uncomfortable?”

The silence is deafening. Suz nudges Ana, whispering. “Breathe.”

Ana slowly exhales air. “Oh, my god.”

Dean clears his throat. “I don't know, it's not real so I guess it doesn't matter. You wouldn't be...”

Cas shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. “It's not real.”

“Well. It's not. Is it?” There's a thread of anger in Dean's voice now. 

Cas cooks his head. “Then why did you hide the shirts?” His blue eyes narrow and he searches for something in Dean's eyes. “I've been with you for over a decade. I've bled for you and Sam, I've died for _you_, more than most. I rebelled for you. We do share a profound bond.” Cas' voice quiets down. “It seems you don't even remember that anymore.”

Dean gets up from his seat. “Remember? All I do is remember, Cas. I remember _everything_. How you walked through those demons and saved me from Hell, how infuriatingly weird you were and stoic with your stupid angel face – “

“ – stupid?”

“ – Yeah, stupid! And how mad I was when you did that Leviathan stunt, you were gone and I was driving around in Baby with your trench coat wrapped into a package like some lovesick idiot – 

“You kept my trench coat?” Cas' voice has a note of incredulity in it like he doesn't dare believe what he's hearing.

“It was dirty and gross as fuck, but it was yours, something of you that wasn't gone, so yeah I kept it! And then you dared leave me again.”

Cas gets up, his lips set in anger. “I did not leave, I died!”

“I know you did! That was all I thought about for days, weeks! I wrapped you in a shroud myself, and I hated the world, Cas, I hated God and I hated myself the most.” Dean exhales harshly, his breath coming in angry puffs.

“You never told me this.” Cas' voice is raised, marked by ire and frustration.

Dean makes a bitter sound. “When? We're constantly fighting some crappy apocalypse over another, fighting each other. Scrambling like rats in a maze. And I – I didn't think you felt the same. You're an angel and we've been by each other's side forever without you... I don't know. You haven't made any moves!”

Cas walks up to Dean, his eyes are softer now, his voice more soothing, but resentment lingers.“You kept calling me family, Dean. You pushed me away when I was human, powerless.”

Dean goes rigid. 

“The first thing you said to me when I came back from the Empty was that you needed me back. Because of my powers. That I was _useful_.” The last word comes out harsh and bitter. “How would I know that you – “

“ – Acted like a lovesick idiot?”

Cas lets out a laugh. “I'd just go with idiot.”

There is a pregnant pause, so heavy that Ana and Suz fears one of them has passed out, but then Dean clears his throat again. 

Cas takes another step towards Dean and they're so close; the space between them is intermingled with their hard exhales, and short, desperate inhales.

“I guess I am an idiot.” Dean's voice is cracking.

Ana's heart beats with a frenzy in her chest. She can see the hope exuding from Dean, like a palpable, living entity. She can't move if her life depends on it. She feels fingers searching for hers and grabs Suz's hand. “Just do it, you adorable idiots.”

“I think we've established that.” Cas' voice is dry but he smiles at Dean before his face turns serious. 

“I never... “ Dean looks down. “You always left. I guess I saw that as you not needing, “Dean makes a face, “not_wanting_ me, you know. It was never about your powers, Cas. I could care less about your powers, angels are dicks anyway.” He chuckles. “Except one.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I was just afraid. That you'd say no, that you didn't feel the same way. I'm just a human, what the hell do I have to offer you wh – “

“I feared you didn't feel the same. So I stayed silent. Better to be near you as a friend at least then not at all. To be honest, there have been moments when...” Cas pauses as if deliberating how honest he should be but decides to go on. “There have been moments when I've felt ready to leave altogether. Feeling disposable is not a pleasant feeling.”

Dean sucks in a sharp breath in pain over those words. “Cas...”

Cas puts a finger under Dean's chin, lifting up his face so Dean can look him in the eyes. “Yes, Dean?”

Dean surges forward and kisses Cas with such passion that the angel staggers for a moment. 

Suz turns towards Ana. She has her own hand over her mouth, clamped hard so no sound will escape. Her eyes are huge with excitement. Suz mirrors her joy, and grabs Ana's hand, squeezing hard.

They can't believe their eyes. 

Cas' hand is in Dean's hair, pulling at him as if Dean was the last drop of air for his starving lungs. Their kiss is wild and reckless, years of untold stories bursting forth in how they meet in a storm of lips and tongue.

Suz and Ana turn away. The intensity is too much and they feel suddenly as the intruders they actually are, both in this moment and in their world. This was Dean and Cas' lives, the actual Dean and Cas, not the characters from some amazing, sad, intense and scary show called Supernatural.

They can hear it when Cas and Dean finally calms down and Suz and Ana peek one more time. 

Their kiss breaks off, chests heaving from unspoken emotions. Cas' eyes are wet with unshed tears and Dean shakes his head, laughing. “Well, better say it too I guess.”

There is a pause and then Dean speaks, joy in every syllable. “I love you, Cas.”

Cas' smile splits his face. “I love you to Dean.” He is silent for two breaths before continuing. “You're still an idiot.”

“I'll show you idiot. Come here.” Dean grabs Cas and pulls him in for another kiss.

Suz and Ana slowly walk away from the scene, knees stiff but hearts uplifted. “Lord help me, I can't even remember where we were going. I can't believe it! They finally had the talk. I'm so happy for them.” Ana is so excited that Suz has to shush her down.

“Calm down. Dean will skin us alive, if he finds out that we were there. God, Sam is gonna flip.”

Ana laughs. “Can you imagine the stack of jokes he has about them? His long-suffering days are over.” They walk for a few seconds before Ana confesses. “I have no idea what we were doing out there. Looking for, what were we looking for?”

“Towels. Linens. But your temporary amnesia is forgivable.” She smiles. “Thank you, Stands! Without those shirts, this would not have happened tonight.”

Ana lets out a huge sigh. “I need a shower, dinner, and sleep. Dinner will be very _interesting_.”

“I don't think there will be dinner for Dean and Cas tonight,” Suz adds before grinning.

“True. But hey, I'm not worried about us not coming home anymore. If those idiots finally confessed their love, then getting us home will be a piece of cake.”


	31. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poem about Team Free Will celebrating Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep! A poem marks the end of this Suptober challenge. Thank you, everyone, who has read, left kudos or engaged with me through comments. Love you all!
> 
> Happy Halloween.

  
It was the eve of All Hallow's Day  
when ghostly children came out to play  
dressed in garbs of white as mummies  
yearning for some treats in tummies

Not the day for Dean, Cas, Jack and Sam  
this holiday of monsters was not their jam  
They'd seen enough of death and gore  
and little Tom dressed a ghoul, what a bore

The Bunker underground, secret and away  
not that any kids would come their hidden way  
They were adults, trick and treats be gone  
monsters in a grave where they belong

Rowena bossed them, left and right  
Threatened with magic, and all her might  
Sam just smiled, with eyes aglow  
Dean made barf sounds, please help his bro

Jack baked cookies, shaped like bats  
Cas cleaned halls, chasing rats  
Dean smashed dough, baking pie  
Sam hang ornaments, not a lie

Bellies straining with food and beer  
Team Free Will were up for some cheer  
A funny movie where a guy was a spy  
something jolly no one to die

As darkness consumed them, fake monsters abound  
Dean grabbed his angel, his arm snaked around  
Silent the world, nothing dire at hand  
now was the time, to share something grand  
“Let's go and come now, just me and you  
leave the others, they'll have no clue.”

Outside monsters and mummies and witches arise  
No one of that matters as Cas shows surprise  
When down on one knee, Dean hits the floor  
revealing some truths, from lips they pour  
“Marry me, will you, I'll give you my all?”  
“You gave it already, my heart is in thrall.”

All Hallow's Eve, gone, over and dead  
Sam hugs his loved one, Rowena in red  
Jack is away, eating sugary cereals  
smiling so wide, the taste so ethereal  
Cas and Dean are together at last  
everything else's in the long distant past  



End file.
